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T.^.DENISON & COMPANY CHICAGO 



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DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS. 

A Partial List of Successful and Popular Plays. Lar^e Catalogue Free. 
Price 15 Cents Each. Postpaid- Unless Different Price is Given. 



DRAMAS. COMEDIES. ENTER- 
TAINMENTS. Etc. 

M. F. 

After the Game, 2 acts, I'A 

hrs (25c) 1 9 

All a Mistake, 3 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 4 4 
All That Glitters Is Not Gold, 

2 acts, 2 hrs 6 3 

Altar of Riches, 4 acts, 2J4 hrs. 

(25c) 5 5 

American Hustler, 4 acts, 2^ 

hrs (25c) 7 4 

Arabian Nights, 3 acts, 2 hrs. . . 4 5 
Bank Cashier, "4 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 8 4 
Black Heifer, 3 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 9 3 

Bonnybell, 1 hr (25c).Optnl. 

Brookdale Farm, 4 acts, 2J4 hrs. 

(25c) 7 3 

Brother Josiah, 3 acts, 2 h. (25c) 7 4 
Busy Liar, 3 acts, 2]4 hrs. (25c) 7 4 

Caste, 3 acts, 2V^ hrs 5 3 

Corner Drug Store, 1 hr. (25c) 17 14 
Cricket on the Hearth, 3 acts, 

1J4 hrs 7 8 

Danger Signal, 2 acts, 2 hrs... 7 4 
Daughter of the Desert, 4 acts, 

214 hrs (25c) 6 4 

Down ia Dixie, 4 acts, 2^ hrs. 

(25c) , 8 4 

East Lynne, 5 acts, 2^4 hrs 8 7 

Editor-in-Chief. 1 hr (25c)10 

Elma, lU hrs (25c) Optnl. 

Enchanted Wood, 1^4 h. (35c) Optnl. 

Eulalia, 1^ hrs (25c) Optnl. 

Face at the Window, 3 acts, 2 

hrs (25c) 4 4 

From Sumter to Appomattox, 4 

acts, 21/4 hrs (25c) 6 2 

Fun on the Podunk Limited, 

iy2 hrs (25c) 9 14 

Handy Andy (Irish), 2 acts,li^ h. 8 2 
Heiress of Hoetown, 3 acts, 2 

hrs (25c) 8 4 

High School Freshman, 3 acts, 

2 h (25c) 12 

Home, 3 acts, 2 hrs 4 3 

Honor of a Cowboy, 4 acts, 2^ 

hrs (25c)13 4 

Iron Hand, 4 acts, 2 hrs.. (25c) 5 4 
It's All in the Pay Streak, 3 

acts,^ IH hrs (2Sc) 4 3 

Jayville Junction, iy2 hrs.(25c)14 17 
Tedediakijudkins, J. P., 4 acts, 

'2% hrs (25c) 7 5 

Kingdom of Heart's Content, 3 

acts. 2^ hrs (25c) 6 12 

Light Brigade, 40 min (25c) 10 

Little Buckshot, 3 acts, 2J4 hrs. 

(25c) 7 4 

Lodge of Kye Tyes, 1 hr.(25c)13 
Lonelyville Social Club, 3 acts, 

iVi hrs (25c) 10 



M. F. 

Louva, the Pauper, 5 acts, 2 h. . 9 4 
Man from Borneo, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 

(25c) 5 2 

Man from Nevada, 4 acts, 2J/2 

hrs (25c) 9 5 

Mirandy's Minstrels (25c) Optnl. 

New Woman, 3 acts, 1 hr 3 6 

Not Such a Fool as He Looks, 

3 acts, 2 hrs 5 3 

Odds with the Enemy, 4 acts, 

134 hrs 7 4 

Old Maid's Club, VA hrs. (25c) 2 16 
Old School at Hick'ry Holler, 

IK hrs (25c) 12 9 

Only Daughter, 3 acts, I A hrs. 5 2 
On the Little Big Horn, 4 acts, 

21^ hrs (25c) 10 4 

Our Boys, 3 acts, 2 hrs 6 4 

Out in the Streets, 3 acts, 1 hr. 6 4 

Pet of Parson's Ranch, 5 acts, 2 h. 9 2 

School Ma'am, 4 acts, 1^4 hrs.. 6 5 

Scrap of Paper, 3 acts, 2 hrs.. 6 6 

Seth Greenback, 4 acts, 1^ hrs. 7 3 

Soldier of Fortune, 5 acts, 2yi h. 8 3 

Solon Shingle, 2 acts, li/4.hrs.. 7 2 

Sweethearts, 2 acts, 35 min.... 2 2 
Ten Nights in a Barroom, 5 

acts, 2 Ift-s 7 4 

Third Degree, 40 min (25c) 12 

Those Dreadful Twins, 3 acts, 

2 hrs (25c) 6 4 

Ticket-of -Leave Man, 4 acts, 2^ 

hrs 8 3 

Tony, The Convict, 5 acts, 2^/2 

hrs (25c) 7 4 

Topp's Twins, 4 acts, 2 h..(25c) 6 4 

Trip to Storyland, 1^ hrs. (25c) 17 23 

Uncle Josh, 4 acts, 2^4 hrs. (25c) 8 3 

Under the Laurels, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 6 4 
Under the Spell, 4 acts, 2i/$ 

hrs (25c) 7 3 

Yankee Detective, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 8 3 

FARCES. COMEDIETTAS. Etc. 

April Fools, 30 min 3 

Assessor, The, 10 min 3 2 

Aunt Matilda's Birthday Party, 

35 min 11 

Baby Show at Pineville, 20 min. 19 

Bad Job, 30 min 3 2 

Betsy Baker, 45 min 2 2 

Billy's Chorus Girl, 25 min... 2 3 

Billy's Mishap, 20 min 2 3 

Borrowed Luncheon, 20 min.. 5 

Borrowing Trouble, 20 min.... 3 5 

Box and Cox, 35 min 2 1 

Cabman No. 93, 40 min 2 2 

Case Against Casey, 40 min... 23 
Convention of Papas, 25 min. . . 7 

Country Justice, 15 min 8 

Cow that Kicked Chicago, 20 m. 3 2 



T. S. DENISON a COMPANY. 154 W. Randolph St., Chicago 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME 
TO TOWN 

A DRAMATIC COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



BY 

HARRY L. NEWTON 

AUTHOR OF 

^Breakfast Food for Two,'"' "^ Bundle of Burnt Cnrk Comedv," "Business is 
Business,'' "The Coming Champion,'" "The Coontown Thirteen Club,'' " i he 
Corner Drug Store," "The Counterfeit Bills,' "A Dutch Cocktail," 
'Five Minutes from 'Veil College," "The Heiress of Hoetown," 
Jay vi lie Junction," "The Little Red Schoolhouse," "Laugh- 
land via the Ha Ha Route," "Marriage and After," 
"Oshkosh Next Week," "The Pooh Bah of Peace- 
town," "The Rest Cure," "Si and I," "A 
Sunny Son of Italy," "The Troubles 
of Rozinski," " Two Jay Detec- 
tives," "Uncle Bill at the 
Vaudeville," Etc. 



CHICAGO 
S. DENISON & COMPANY 
Publishers 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO 
TOWN 



CHARACTERS. 

In the Order of their First Appearance. 

Cyrus Skinner. Sheriff, Justice of the Peace and 

. Keeper of the Golden Rod Tavern 

George Worthington An Erudite Bostonian 

Annabelle Reeves An Heiress 

Jerry Barker . .Manager of the Great Wonderland Circus 

"Mother'' Rickie . Wardrobe Mistress 

Zuzu The Principal Clozvn and in Love with Peaches 

Peaches Queen of Bareback Riders 

Francis Clay A Disreputable Young Kentuckian 

Note. — If desirable Skinner and Clay may double. 



Place — The Golden Rod Estate, Kentucky. 



Time — The Present. 



Time of Playing — About Tzvo Hours and Fifteen Minutes. 



Act I — Exterior Golden Rod Tavern. Afternoon. 

Act II — Kitchen of Annabelle's Home. Two Days 
Later. Morning. 

Act IH — Lawn in front of the tavern. One week later. 
Late afternoon. 



copyright, 1912, by eben h. norris. 



Notice. — Production of this play is free to amateurs, but the sole 
professional rights are reserved bv the Pnhliclr^rs, 

TMP96-007490 
©CI.D 31183 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 3 

STORY OF THE PLAY. 

Due to a long continued run of bad business The Great 
Wonderland Circus is stranded in Kentucky and has been 
attached for debt by Cyrus Skinner, the county sheriff, who 
is also tavern keeper and justice of the peace. Francis 
Clay, a disreputable young Kentuckian, offers to lift the 
show and in consequence forces his' attentions upon the 
youthful Peaches, the Queen of Bareback Riders. The 
financial difficulties so pall Jinimie Barker, the manager of 
the show, that he is willing to accept aid from any source 
without question of motive. However, Clay's intentions 
are strongly denounced by Mother Rickie, the wardrobe 
mistress, and Zuzu, the clown. Zuzu is in love with Peaches 
and being resourceful plans to thwart Clay regardless of 
consequences. He enlists the aid of George Worthington, 
an erudite Bostonian, who has wandered to this out of the 
way place in search of peace and quiet, and also the aid of 
Annabelle Reeves, a young heiress. Worthington admires 
Annabelle and when he learns that Clay has been showing 
her marked attention, enters the fray with vigor and de- 
termination. There are many complications and difficulties 
which the ardent lovers overcome, but finally the clouds of 
trouble disappear. The odious Clay is vanquished. Barker 
receives enough money from the owners to finance the 
show. Peaches decides to marry Zuzu. Annabelle accepts 
Worthington as a life partner, and Cyrus Skinner, as jus- 
tice of the peace, is delighted to perform the most pleasant 
duty of his office. Thus, with happiness all around and 
about, these fun making, tender hearted, star-spangled cir- 
cus folks, whose home lies in the sawdust under the "big 
white tops," from the little sleepy town depart. 

SYNOPSIS FOR PROGRAM. 

Act I — The man from Boston engages "apartments" at 
the Golden Rod Tavern. "He's a fine feller, even if he does 
come from Boston." The circus is tied up by an attach- 
ment, which brings the performers to the tavern — hungry. 
Zuzu finds the "eats." Annabelle, the rich heiress, meets 



4 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

George, the poor professor, and George meets Peaches. 
Mr. Clay introduces himself to the circus folks and gets 
familiar upon short acquaintance. He makes the clown 
"cut-up" and tries to kiss Peaches, but the man from Boston 
averts a possible tragedy. "Kiddo, you're all right. Slip it 
to me." 

Act II — Peaches and Zuzu try the art of bread making 
under difficulties. George calls on Annabelle. '.'What a man 
he is !" Mr. Clay again appears. ''What I go after I usually 
get. I want that circus girl." "And the villain still pursues 
us." Mr. Clay's kindly offer declined. Clay proposes to 
Peaches. "Say, what are you doing, reading one of them 
yellow novels?" Zuzu right on the job. "Mother" declares 
Peaches and Zuzu must marry. "I'm happy, Zuzu — almost. 
If we was only back with the circus again." Peaches and 
Zuzu show circus stunts with the aid of a kitchen table. 
"No, it ain't real circus. I thought it was, Zuzu, but it ain't." 

Act III — Mr. Clay still plots. "Here's two thousand, real 
money. Take it or not." "Keep it ! I ain't as bad as that ! 
That outfit will stay there till hell freezes over !" Zuzu an- 
nounces his betrothal. "If I get stuck for a clean collar, 
what size do you wear, and can I borrow one?" George 
and Annabelle grow sentimental — with interruptions. Jerry 
gets a wire. "Oh, folks, he's telegraphed the coin to move 
the troupe." Zuzu makes a clown out of Clay. "Walk out 
of this yard and give a correct imitation of a man that's 
never coming back to trouble anybody. Be sure your imi- 
tation is good, Mr. Bad Boy." George and Annabelle again 
grow sentimental — with success. Peaches refuses the sim- 
ple life idea — back to sawdust for mine." 

CHARACTERS AND COSTUMES. 

Cyrus Skinner — A rube, drawling in speech and rather 
slow in action. Wears brown linen coat and trousers, soft 
shirt and turn down collar, straw hat and silver spectacles. 
Face smooth shaven and healthy tanned color ; iron gray 
hair. Man of about fifty. A kind and lovable old soul and 
generous to a faulr. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 5 

George Worth ington — Man of about thirty-five and 
very much the gentleman. Hair sHghtly sprinkled with 
gray over ears; face smooth shaven and made-up rather 
pale. Wears eye glasses with silk cord attached, which he 
frequently removes and wipes with handkerchief. In first 
act he wears a gray business suit ; white vest, white standup 
collar, black bow tie, tan shoes and straw hat. In Act II 
white duck or flannel outing suit. In Act III dark clothing 
and shoes. He is quiet in speech and action, very precise 
in everything he does ; also cool and collected, but showing 
nervousness in the love scenes. Has a pleasant smile for 
everybody, but knows little of the world outside of his 
knowledge of books — his dearest treasures. 

Annabelle Reeves — Girl of about twenty-four or twen- 
ty-five, with a sweet toned voice and lovable disposition. 
Speaks with just a suspicion of the southern dialect. In 
Act I she wxars automobile costume complete. In Act II 
a simple morning dress. In Act III a handsome afternoon 
costume. 

Jerry Barker — Man about forty. Loud talker. Wears 
flashy clothes and big watch chain. Hair black and long, 
black moustache. No change of costume required, as his 
clothes are supposed to be tied up with the circus. Face is 
florid or weather beaten in color. A good hearted individ- 
ual, inclined to boast of past deeds. 

''Mother" Rickie — Woman of about thirty-five. Likes 
her drink and is always slightly the worse for it. Whole 
souled and continually inquiring about everybody's health. 
Thinks everything of Peaches and circus life. Costumes 
may be ad lib, but appropriate to character. 

Zuzu — Clown costume with facial make-up th^ same. 
This applies to Act I and finish of Act II. In Act II his 
costume may be ad lib. He is, however, the typical clown 
all through play, in voice, action and everything, throwing 
off care and worry with no effort. 

Peaches — Girl of eighteen or twenty. Talks slang and 
knows nothing but what pertains to the circus. Sweet and 
lovable in disposition and almost always cheerful. Looks 
upon Zuzu more as a pal than lover, but expects some day 



6 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

to be his wife. Costumes appropriate to part, but wearing 
bareback outfit in Act I, with wide, flowing-, ruffled skirts, 
ankle length. 

Francis Clay — Young man about twenty-five. A thor- 
ough southerner. Fiery in speech and action, also swagger- 
ing and boastful. In love with every pretty face he sees, but 
not thoroughly bad at heart. Face is swarthy and smooth 
shaven and hair black. In Act I wears a rough riding suit 
with high boots, etc. In other acts more genteel clothing. 

PROPERTY LIST. 

Act I — Dinner bell, suit case, bound book, constable 
badge, auto horn, several bundles for Jerry and "Mother," 
bass drum and cymbals, water pail, revolver for Clay. 

Act II — Kitchen utensils, dishes, etc. ; large scoop shovel, 
broom, long carriage whip, quantity of bread dough, news- 
paper, stufifed animal's head (any kind). 

Act III — Cigarettes for Clay, money for Clay; book for 
George, bunch of flowers ; telegram, revolver, suitcase ; sev- 
eral bundles for Jerry and "Mother." 

STAGE SETTING. 





Landscape Drop 
Pump = ^ 


%' 




o 


\ 

Wood Wings 

\ 

Wood Wings 


"Alii 


/ ChalrQ no Chair 


/ ^ 


r~ 



Acts I and III. 

Note. — The circus tent efifect may be made in the follow- 
ing simple manner. On a small square of canvas have your 
local scenic artist paint a small miniature copy of a circus 
tent which may tacked on an ordinary wood drop. For the 
lights to show, cut several small holes in the canvas and set 
a strong light back of drop. If there is no scenic artist 
available it can be done by any sign painter. With ingenuity 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 7 

and with but small expense a fine effect can be given to 
Act I and particularly to the finale of Act IIL 

Screened | 1 ooorj . 



Cupboard 



Kitchen \ 

Table 
Door ChalrQ □ QChair Door 

7" O Chair T 



Act. II. 

STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R. means right of the stage ; C, center ; R. C, right cen- 
ter ; L., left ; R. D., right door ; L. D., left door, etc. ; 1 E., 
first entrance ; U. E., upper entrance, etc. ; D. F., door in 
flat or scene running across the back of the stage ; 1 G., first 
groove, etc. The actor is supposed to be facing the audience. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO 
TOWN 



I 



Act I. 



Scene: Golden Rod Tavern. Set house, R., with porch 
and two steps. Sign hangs from top of porch, reading 
"Tavern." Full landscape hacking, shozving circus tent in 
the far distance. Entrances L. 1 E., L. U . E., R. U. E. and 
R. into house. Plain table and two chairs are placed R and 
a garden bench, L. Pump L. of C. Grass mats are scat- 
tered about. Lights are full on all through act, as it is about 
five in the afternoon. See Scene Plot for stage setting. 

As curtain is well up, enter Cyrus from house and on 
porch. He has a dinner bell and rings it vigorously, at the 
same time yells "Dinner' tzvo or three times, then comes 
down steps and to table, slams bell on it in disgusted manner. 

Cyrus (disgustedly). Oh, what the gosh-darn blazes is 
the use of ringing that bell and yelling dinner. Ain't got no 
boarder and ain't had one since the country went dry two 
months ago. I reckon its force of habit ringin' that bell 
three times a day. 

Enter George^ L. U. E. He carries a small grip in one 
hand and a bound book in other. 

George. Good afternoon, sir. {Coming dozvn to bench.) 

Cyrus (surprised). Afternoon. Travelin 'or just goin' 
some place? (Looks at him curiously). 

George. Are you the proprietor of this place? (Waves 
hand in direction of tavern.) 

Cyrus. I be, but I ain't braggin' about it. 

George (laughs). Well, I was directed to your place by 
a man in the village. My name is George Worthington of 
Boston. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 9 

Cyrus. Well, it won't go any further with me. I kin 
keep my mouth shut, you bet your boots. 

George (sets grip on bench). Oh, I've done nothing to 
ashamed of, sir, I assure you. (Laughs.) I was recom- 
mended to your place as being a particularly quiet one — 

Cyrus. Mister, it's quiet here — g'osli darn quiet. 

George. And that's what I desire — the more quiet the 
better I shall be suited. I will state briefly what I desire. 
I am a college professor in search of a quiet place in which 
I can study and also recuperate a somewhat rundown con- 
dition of the system. I think this place an ideal one for my 
purpose, and I should like to make arrangements to stop 
with you for some time. Have you room for me? 

Cyrus (laughs). Room for you? Say, room is all I have 
got just now. I ain't had a boarder since the country went 
dry, mister. 

George (pu::dcd). Country went dry? Don't you have 
rain here anymore, sir? 

Cy'RVS (looks at him from head to foot before speaking). 
Rain ? Who in thunder said anything about rain ? The Pro- 
hibitionists performed an operation on this here country 
two months ago, mister. 

George (piizded). Performed an operation? I don't be- 
lieve I quite grasp your meaning. 

Cyrus. Why, they cut out our booze. 

George (laughs). Oh, now I understand. You'll excuse 
me if I display ignorance in many of your ways and sayings. 
I am much wrapped up in my books. However, that is merely 
by the way. Will you accept me as a guest? 

Cyrus (doubtfully). I dunno. You see Pm all alone 
here now. My help all left on account of no business, but 
if you'll put up with what I — 

George. Say no more, sir. I lead a simple life and shall 
require but very little attention. Now regarding your 
rates. 

Cyrus. Rates? (Scratches head thoughtfidly.) Oh, 
yes. Well, Pll tell you. The last two or three folks I had 
here didn't pay me a darn cent. If you can do any better 
than that, go in and make yourself to home. 



10 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

George (laughs, then picks up grip). I think I can. 
How will $2 a day strike you? 

Cyrus. Two dollars per day, mister, will strike me 
where I need it the most — in my pocketbook. 

George (crosses to porch, carrying grip and book, turns 
and faces Cyrus). Very good, sir. I shall expect yon to 
be my host for some days to come. What room, if you 
please? 

Cyrus. Don't matter. Take your choice. 

George. Thank you. (Starts to enter.) 

Cyrus (suddenly suspicious) . Say, you're sure you ain't 
one of them circus folks? 

George (on porch). Circus folks? 

Cyrus. Yes, one of them fellers from the circus yonder. 
(Points at tent. George looks.) 

George. No, indeed, sir. I — 

Cyrus. It's all right if you say so. You see, I attached 
that circus outfit a Httle while ago for debt, bag and bag- 
gage, and I reckon them circus folks ain't got a nickel 
apiece. 

George. Oh ! So you are an officer of the law as well as 
tavern keeper? 

Cyrus. Yep. (Proudly displays badge.) I'm sheriff, 
constable, detective, policeman, justice of the peace and 
owner of the Golden Rod Tavern. 

George (laughs). Well, well. But you need have no 
fear of your money not being forthcoming. If you will step 
inside I shall be glad to pay a week or so in advance. I 
shall send to the station for my trunk at once. (Bozvs and 
exits into tavern.) 

Cyrus (gamng after George). Well, he's a likely looker 
and a fine feller, even if he did come from Boston. 

Re-enter George on porch. 

George. I have forgotten to ask you something. Is there 
any fishing hereabouts, sir? 

Cyrus. Fishin? Well, I reckon. 

George (pleased). And do the fish really bite? 

Cyrus. Bite? Say, mister, the fish around here are so 



WHEN THE QRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 11 

vicious that you have to hide behind a tree while you bait 
your hook. 

George (lauglis). All right. I'll see you later, sir. (Exit 
into house.) 

Cyrus (zi'ith a chuckle). I reckon that'll keep him quiet 
for a spell. 

Auto horns sound off L. U. E.^ then sharp report as an 
explosion of some part of machine. 

Cyrus (at back center, shading eyes zvith hand and look- 
ing off L.). Gosh all fish hooks! Somebody's had a fallin' 
out with their automobile. (Looks again.) Darned if it 
ain't Miss Annabelle. 

Enter Annarelle, L. U. E. She is dressed in fashion- 
able auto costume. 

Annabelle (bowing and smiling at Cyrus, then coming 
doivn stage). Ah, Air. Skinner, I am glad I found you in. 

Cyrus. Yes, findin' me in is a heap better than findin' 
me out, ain't it? (Chuckles, then conies down to Jier.) 

Annabelle (laughs). I just had an accident happen to 
my runabout. I was out for a ride, thinking I would go 
around by way of the circus and see what was going on 
up there. But I'm stopped short now. I pulled every lever 
and the car never moved. Provoking, isn't it? 

Cyrus. Don't know much about them things. Miss. If 
it was a hoss I'd know what to advise. But there ain't 
nothin' doin' with that circus up there. (Indicating tent.) 

Annabelle. No? What happened? 

Cyrus. Served an attachment for debt a little while ago 
and tied 'em all up tight. 

Annabelle. That's too bad, I'm sure. But would you 
mind if I used your phone, Mr. Skinner? I must call up 
my house and have one of the men come over and take 
care of my car. Is your phone in working order ? 

Cyrus (doubt f idly). It was last week, Miss. 

Annabelle (laughs, then starts for house). Well, I'li 
take a chance anyway. I miay have to stop here for supper. 
(Turns and faces him.) Will that.be all right? 



12 WHEN THE QRCUS CAME TO TOV/N. 

Cyrus. Well, you might take a chance on that, too, as 
long as you're takin' chances. 

Annabelle (laughs). Til do that, too, Mr. Skinner. 
(Exits into house.) 

Cyrus. Gosh, I'm busier than a yellow dog with fleas. 
Got a circus tied up, and a feller clean from Boston, and 
now the richest gal in the couatry comes to eat supper. 
(Goes to back center.) I'll go take a squint at her machine. 
Maybe I kin start her up. (Exit L. U. E., zvhistling.) 

Enter Jerry and Mother Rickie, R. U. E., each carry- 
ing a couple of bundles. 

Jerry (coming dozvn to bench and dropping bundles on 
it). Well, we're here. 

Mother (dropping bundles on bench, then sitting zvear- 
ily dozvn beside them). Yes, but zvliere are ye — that's the 
question ? 

Jerry (looking at tavern). This here is a tavern, Mother 
Rickie, wherein are contained, I take it, food, drink and 
rest. 

Mother. Well, I ain't findin' no fault, but if such like 
things as them are inside, the chances are they'll stay there, 
'cause we ain't got a nickel between us. By the way, Mr. 
Barker, how are you feelin'? 

Jerry. Rotten! And why shouldn't I? It's a fine situ- 
ation for me to find myself in. Me, Jerry Barker, manager 
of the Great Wonderland Circus and Menagerie, broke, and 
without the price of a hot-dog sandwich in my jeans. Abso- 
lutely broke, Mother Rickie — do you get that? 

Mother. Oh, well, things might be worse. 

Jerry. Worse? Nix! Nothin' doin' in the worse line. 
When that rube sheriff attached our outfit, the worst that 
could happen came up and happened. 

Mother. Maybe if you'd let the booze alone a bit, you 
and the circus would be better off. (Takes a bottle slyly 
from pocket and takes a sip.) 

Jerry. Booze? Go way with that kind of noise. I'm no 
boozer and you know it. But now you mention, it, I'm 
thirsty. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 13 

Mother. There's a kindly lookin' pump. Go to it. 

Jerry. Bah ! There's nothin' in that pump but water. 
(Goes to pump.) 

Mother. Well ? 

Jerry. Of course well water. What else ? (Pumps dip- 
per full, holds it up, sighs.) I suppose I got to drink it — 
this once anyhow. (Takes mouthful, then spits it out.) Oh, 
Lord! 

Mother. Yes, and he made water to drink, too. 

Jerry.' Don't believe it. Understand I ain't knockin' 
water, Mother. Water is all right in its place. But its 
place is under bridges and floatin' ships. Besides, look at 
the rain we've had in the last two weeks. That's what put 
our show on the bum, lady — water. 

Mother. You're right, Jerry Barker. Water is a dan- 
gerous companion. (Takes another nip slyly.) 

Jerry. Where's Zuzu and Peaches? 

Mother. • Say, that's so. Where are they ? I ain't seen 
them since noon. (Getting up and going back to center, 
looks off both ways.) Hope they ain't lost, strayed or 
stolen. 

Jerry. Don't worry. They'll, turn up. Zuzu will look 
out for Peaches all right. 

Mother (coming back to bench). Oh, I ain't worryin' 
any. But it's just as well to stick together. 

Enter George from R. U. E. and crosses slowly to L. U. 
E. and exits. He is deeply interested in book and does not 
see them. 

Jerry. Oh, I guess we'll stick all right. There ain't 
nothin' else to do under these here circumstances. 

Mother. Don't growl. Don't get you nothin'. Be like 
Peaches and Zuzu — cheerful like all the time. 

Enter Cyrus^ L. U. E. Stops and stares curiously at 
Jerry and Mother. 

Jerry. The only time I'd feel cheerful would be when 
I had that rube sheriff by the neck, kickin' him so full of 
holes that by the time I got through with him he'd be 
first cousin to a screen door. (Cyrus does comedy quiet 



14 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

sneak down stage to porch and exit into house. March 
music begins to be played by orchestra, very soft, with 
sound of drum in distance.) 

Mother (rises quicklv, ^oes to back center and looks 
off R. U. E.) What's that? 

Jerry (following her). Sounds Hke something all, right. 

(Music a little louder, zvith drum beats gradually grozv- 
ing louder and nearer.) 

Mother (looking intently). It's Zuzu and Peaches or 
I'm a heathen. 

Jerry. What the blazes are they up to now ? 

Mother. Looks like they're doing another of their 
fool tricks. 

Music nozv "forty." Enter Zuzu and PEy\CHES, R. U. E., 
marching to time of music. Zuzu carries a bass drum 
which he pounds to rhythm of music, and Peaches follows 
closely behind, playing cymbals. They march, twice about 
stage. Enter from- house Annabelle and Cyrus and stand 
on porch zvatching the scene. Mother and Jerry at back, 
C, looking on and enjoying it. Put plenty of action in 
this scene. Music stops after Peaches and Zuzu march 
tzvice about stage, then Peaches and Zuzu set dozvn drum 
and cymbals. 

Zuzu. Well, good people, here we are — what's left of 
us. Are we downhearted ? Nay, nay ! Not even if they 
didn't give us time to gather together our beloved street 
clothing and such like things. (Mother and Jerry come 
down stage again. Annabelle and Cyrus on porch. To 
Jerry.) Say, Mr. Barker, did you catch the big parade? 

Jerry. This thing you just pulled off — do you call that 
a parade? 

Peaches. Sure, Mike. 

Jerry. Don't call me Mike. My name's Jerry, 

Mother (to Peaches). How you feelin', anyhow? 

Peaches. Immense. Never better. 

Mother (to Zuzu). And how do you feel, Zuzu? 

Zuzu. Me? Say, I've got eatin' suspicions, Mother. 
Genuine eatin' suspicions. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 15 

Annabelle (aside to Cyrus). What a happy-go-lucky 
kind of people they are. 

Cyrus (aside to her). All but that big fellow. Don't 
like the looks of him. (Cyrus and Annabelle exeunt into 
house.) 

Zuzu (looking at tavern). Hello, there's a tavern. (To 
Mother and Jerry.) Have you folks dined yet? 

Mother and Jerry (together, disgustedly). Oh, yes, 
we've dined. 

Zuzu. Do not allow thy angry passions to arise. Thy 
hungry dining rooms are filled. Ham and eggs! Ham and 
eggs! (Sings.) Ham and eggs! (Sees sign, ''Lunch.") 
Behold ! Lunch ! Watch me, good folks. 

Beefsteak and onions through the land 
Hold favor, there's no doubt. 
But now we eat the onions and 
We cut the beefsteak out. 
Jerry. Lord, I wish I had your disposition. 
Zuzu. You can have it. It don't get me anything. 
Peaches. Ain't he the happy one, tho'? 
Mother. Did you come down here from the show lot 
in them clothes? 

Zuzu. No. I've got an aluminum kimona on, lined 
with sheet music. 

Jerry. Oh, shut up. You make me tired. 
Zuzu. For that tired feeling try this: 

There was a young sculptor named Pludias, 
He made statues quite hideous; 
He carved Aphrodite 
Without any nightie. 
Which shocked the purely fastidious. 
Jerry. That'll be about all from you, sir. 
Mother. You and Peaches got to git them clothes off 
and get into something else. Get busy with these bundles. 
Jerry (to Mother). Well, that's up to you. Go as far 
as you like and see if I care. (Sits on bench, moodily 
stroking his mustache and staring into vacancy.) 

Peaches. My, but isn't he the gladsome person ! Come 
on, Mother. I'll help. 



16 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Peaches^ Mother and Zuzu collect the bundles, 
Zuzu nozv moving for the first time since his entrance, 
then business of sorting clothes rapidly, winding up by 
Zu'zu getting a pair of long stockings, a skirt and pair of 
corsets. He holds them up zvhile Mother and Peaches 
laugh heartily. 

Peaches. Say, Zuzu, that's the first laugh Pve had 
handed to me in a month. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Mother {to Zuzu). Give them to me, Zuzu. 

Zuzu. Nix, Mother. (Puts finger on lips and then 
tiptoes to bench.) Til see if I can hand the grouch a laugh. 
(Drops clothes on Jerry.) There's your clothes, papa. 

Jerry (throzving things angrily from him and springing 
to feet). What do you mean, you fool! Keep that clown 
stuff for your next audience — I don't want it. 

Peaches. Gee, it don't look as if there was going to 
be a "next audience." 

Mother. There must be some way to regain possession 
of your property, Mr. Barker. 

Jerry. Sure there is. All I got to do is to dig up $1,200 
cold cash and lift the indebtedness. One thousand two 
hundred cold plunks and I kin have the outfit agin. Bah ! 
You make me sick. Where am I goin' to git that much 
coin? 

Zuzu. Don't talk money now. Talk eat. Keep your eye 
on Zuzu, the celebrated clown. I shall ring the bell for the 
worthy landlord, and if he doesn't come forthwith Pll ring 
his neck. (Picks up bell from table and rings it vigorously, 
then stops and looks expectantly at door.) 

Peaches. Pll bet we nearly get something to eat, Zuzu. 

Zuzu. Pm going to press the button again. (Rings 
bell again.) 

Enter Cyrus from house, first cautiously peeking at them 
through doorzjuay. 

Cyrus (on porch). Good afternoon. Did you ring? 
Jerry. Yes. Is this a hotel? 
Cyrus. Well, some call it that. 
Jerry. What do you call it? 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 17 

Cyrus. Too many ladies present to say. 

Jerry (starting and looking at Cyrus closely). Oh, I've 
got you now. You're the rube sheriff that stuck up my 
show. Come down here. I want to see you. (Threatening 
attitude.) 

Cyrus (nervously backing azvay). You km easy see me 
from where you be. 

Peaches (to Jerry). Forget it, Mr. Barker. 

Mother. Yes, he only did his duty. (To Cyrus.) How 
you feelin', Mr. Sheriff? 

Cyrus Nervous. (Business.) 

Zuzu. Oh, say, where's the waiter? 

Cyrus. I'm him. 

Jerry. Well, for the love of Mike! Is there anythmg 
else you happen to be? You're sheriff, landlord and waiter. 

Cyrus. Yep. And I'm a policeman, detective, justice of 
the peace, insurance agent, lawyer, blacksmith— 

Jerry. Oh, shut up. You must be the only inhabitant 
of this country. 

Cyrus. And I'm owner of the Golden Rod Tavern. 
(Coniing down steps.) 

Zuzu. Then we'd like something to eat. _ ^ ^ 

Cyrus. Beats all how the tavern business is pickin up. 

Zuzu. Glad some business is picking up._ Circus biz 
is good and rotten, otherwise we wouldn't be m the fix we 
are. 

Cyrus. Some busted, ain't you ? 

Zuzu. Not me. I got enough coin m my grouch bag to 
pay for us for a while. 

Peaches. Zuzu, it ain't right to make you the fall guy, 

No, sir. ^ . ^ , ,^ r- \ 

Jerry. Shut up. We can pay him back. (lo Cyrus.) 
What you got to eat in the joint? 

Cyrus. Don't know exactly. What do circus folks usu- 
ally eat? 

Jerry. What do you suppose we eat? _ 

Cyrus Don't know, mister. I seen one circus fellow 
eatin' snakes once. But I tell you right now I don t keep 
'em. 



18 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Jerry (angrily). Don't get gay. 

Zuzu. Yes, cut out the sideshow stuff and let's get to 
the big performance. My stomach is commencing to think 
my chewing apparatus is off on a summer vacation. 

Cyrus. Well, come on in and we'll see what I kin 
dig up. 

Jerry. That sounds like good news from home. {Exits 
into house.) 

Mother {to Cyrus, aside). Do you serve cold tea with 
your meals? {Winks.) 

Cyrus. Nope. Dry town, lady. 

Mother. Well, this is a fine place indeed. 

Cyrus. All this place needs is a little rain and good 
folks for neighbors. 

Mother. Humph ! That's all hades needs. (Exits into 
house.) 

Peaches (to Zuzu). Come on, Zuzu. Let's see what's 
inside. (Exit into house.) 

Zuzu (foUozving her). I hope there's more inside the 
tavern than there is in me. (Exit in house.) 

Cyrus (looking after them). Beats all how the tavern 
business is pickin' up, by gosh! (Exit in house.) 

Enter Annabelle front house and George from L. U. 
E. George is absorbed in the reading of his book and does 
not see Annabelle u]itil he collides with her at back, C. 

George (hastily putting book under one arm, then re- 
moving hat and bozving politely). Really, you know — I 
beg your pardon. 

Annabelle (graciously). Pray don't mention it, sir. 
(Goes a fezv steps tozvards L. U. E., then stops and turns 
to him). You didn't happen to see anything of one of my 
men coming this way — no, no ; of course not. You wouldn't 
know whether it was one of my men or not. 

George (takes a couple of steps as if to exit, but stops as 
he speaks). If I can be of any service — my name is George 
Worthington of Boston, and I am stopping here for a few 
days. 

Annabelle. Oh, yes ; Mr. Skinner spoke of you. I am 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 19 

Miss Reeves — Annabelle Reeves. I was out for a ride and 
something went wrong with my engine, and — 

George. Really, you know, I should like to be of some 
assistance, but I am not up in automobiles at all. I have 
threatened many times to read up on that subject, but I 
have neglected to do so, and — say, I'm really sorry I didn't 
now ; really I am. (By this time they have worked down 
stage and stand very close together, and as he finishes last 
speech his face is very close to hers.) 

Annabelle. I'm quite sure you must be. (Face close 
to his.) 

George (face close to hers for perhaps ten seconds be- 
fore drawing back and speaking, then he takes book from 
under arm and taps it zvith right forefinger). Are you fond 
of reading, Miss Reeves? 

Annabelle (taken back somezvhat and not knowing just 
how to reply). Oh, yes — yes, very much. Very much in- 
deed. 

George (pleased). Perhaps you have read this. It is 
"Development Hypothesis." In biology, a hypothesis or 
theory which contends that species were not each of them 
a separate creation, but by some process or other came 
from previous species, the only exception, if any, existing 
being one or more primordial forms. But of course you 
have read it, and — 

Annabelle. Oh, yes, to be sure. (Aside.) I don't 
know a thing he's talking about. (Looking nervously 
about.) I'm not — not keeping you from anything, am I? 

George. Oh, dear no. You see I am here on a sort of 
vacation. I have plenty of time and nothing at all to do. 

Annabelle. I'm sorry. 

George (surprised). Eh? Sorry? 

Annabelle. No, no ; I meant that I was sorry if I was 
detaining you. 

George. Quite so, quite so. (Motions to bench.) Won't 
you sit down? 

Annabelle (nervously looking about, then sees no zvay 
out of it and sits). Thank you. 

George (sits on bench alongside of her). Really, you 



20 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

know, Miss Reeves, I never expected to come in contact 
with a person — you'll pardon me, won't you — with a per- 
son who had a kindred feeling for my hobbies like you 
have shown — one so familiar with development hypothesis 
in this out of the way spot. Really, you show wonderful 
knowledge of the subject. Suppose we go into the subject 
more thoroughly. (Opening book, reads.) "Everyone 
has taken note that man comes into the world as an in- 
fant, and that bodily and mental development, operating 
by means of changes — (Annabelle rises softly and qui- 
etly tiptoes back C. and exits L. U. E., casting back-ward, 
cautious glances the while. George does not miss her and 
continues his reading.) So gradual as to escape notice at 
the time, make that infant pass through childhood, youth 
and so on to full maturity." 

Peaches enters from house, crosses to bench, looking 
about on ground as if in search of some article, then dis- 
covers bundle on bench and at same time discovers George. 
She stops and stares at him. 

George (turning as if to converse or argue a point he 
has just read and thinking Annabelle is still beside him, 
then looks up and discovers it is Peaches). Oh! (Loqks 
her over curiously, then looks about in searching manner 
for Annabelle, takes off his hat and bows to Peaches.) 
Really, you know, you quite startled me. I thought I was 
in conversation with another. I wasn't prepared to see — 
see anything — anybody, I mean, just like — that is, that in 
anyway exactly resembled you, either in face or — or — 
(peering at her skirts curiously, then takes off glasses and 
wipes them with handkerchief). 

Peaches. Say, that monologue ain't no hit with me. 
There ain't a laugh in it. Besides I think you're up against 
a bad case of stage fright. 

George (astonished) . I beg your pardon — really I do. 

Peaches (laughs good naiuredly). All, right. The same 
to you and many of 'em. (Picks bundle up from bench and 
turns to go.) 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 21 

George. Are you — are you one of the — the maids em- 
ployed in Mr. Skinner's tavern? 

Peaches. Me? Say, quit yer kiddin'. I'm a circus lady. 

George. Oh ! A light dawns on me now. Mr. Skinner 
did mention something about a circus, come to think of it. 
And so you are of the circus, are you? 

Peaches. Don't I look the part? 

George, I really couldn't say, you know. The circus is 
one phase of our existence with which I am entirely un- 
familiar. 

Peaches. Well, wouldn't that make you walk the floor 
nights ! Say, where you from, anyhow, Mister Man ? 

George. My name is George Worthington of Boston. 
(Bows.) 

Peaches. Well, it serves you right. And do you mean 
to hand me the bunk that you've never popped into a big 
top and caught us folks peddling out the dope? 

George (completely bewildered). I — I — really, I don't 
grasp you at all, you know. Bunk? Popped? Big top? 
Dealing dope? 

Peaches. Oh, don't kid me. Come clean, come clean! 

George. Come clean? (Looks at his hands, trousers 
and shoes, then takes out handkerchief and dusts off shoes.) 

Peaches (bursts into hearty laugh). Well, if you're on 
the square, you're the biggest rube I ever met up with. 
Listen: I am a bareback rider with that circus up yonder. 
Do you get thatf 

George. Oh, yes ; of course. You ride a horse with 
your — your bare back. (Peaches stares at him aston- 
ished, giving effect for laugh, then he continues.) But how 
is it that you find it necessary to have your — your back 
bare when you ride? 

Peaches. Say, I never met up with anything like you 
before. You've got my goat — you sure have ! 

George (looks about as if looking for the goat). Really, 
you know, I assure you I haven't even seen your goat. 
Was it a trained one? 

Peaches (laughs). Say, Pd call you a rummie, but you 
wouldn't know what I meant, so I won't. Besides, I ain't 



22 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

got no more time to swap chatter with you. I got to go in 
and put on the big eat thing. If you haven't anything on 
you might stick around a bit and I'll breeze back this way 
and give you a few lessons in the English language — you 
sure do need 'em, party. (Picks up bundle from bench.) 
So long, kiddo ! 

George {recoils in surprise). Kiddo! 

Peaches. So long, and don't stub your toe. (Runs up 
steps, then turns on porch and faces him.) And don't stub 
your toe. (Exit into house.) 

George (raises first one foot, then the other and looks 
at each toe, puts on eyeglasses zvhich he has been polish- 
ing zvith handkerchief, then stares curiously at doorivay). 
Really, you know — isn't she the most extraordinary young 
person ! I surely must make a mental note of her peculiari- 
ties in speech, costume, et cetera, et cetera — especially the 
costume — and relate them in detail to some of my friends 
in Boston — really I must. (Looks searchingly all about.) I 
wonder what became of that other young woman? Most 
extraordinary proceeding, I'm sure. 

Enter Zuzu in hurried manner from house. He carries 
a zvater bucket and almost collides zvith George as he 
rushes forth, discovers him just in time and runs about 
him and to the pump. Begins to pump, eying George curi- 
ously, and George returning the stare. 

George (staring at him). I beg your pardon, sir. 

Zuzu. What for? (Stops pumping.) 

George. Really, you know ; I don't know. I suppose 
on the supposition that I was somewhat surprised. 

Zuzu. What at? 

George. Why, at your appearance — perhaps your cos- 
tume more than anything else. Yoti are of the circus, are 
you not? 

Zuzu. Yes — I am not. I was but. Did you sret the 
''bur 

George. You have been unfortunate, I understand. 
And so you are a clown — a buffoon ! 

Zuzu. Say, don't you call me no babboon — 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 23 

George. Nay, nay. I called you a buffoon or practical 
jester. In Shakespeare's drama a distinct part is assigned 
to the clown, who no longer appears as an extempore 
jester, although the part he plays is to a certain extent in 
keeping with his additional functions. 

Zuzu (zvith no clear idea of zvhat George means). 
Well, outside of that I'm all right, ain't I? 

George. Certainly, sir — most assuredly. There was a 
young lady here a few moments ago. She was also of the 
circus. 

Zuzu (threateningly). Look here — that'll do you. You 
can call me anything you like ; I'm used to it. But you can't 
slam Peaches — not wdiile I'm around. 

George. Slam Peaches? 

Zuzu. Yes, Peaches. She's my pal. 

George. Ah, I see. So that is the young lady's name. 
And why do they call her Peaches? 

Zuzu. Because that's her name. (Pumps zvatcr into 
pail^ then stops again.) Do you work around here, mister? 
If you do, you ought to get busy. Don't let me stop you. 

George. I? Oh, dear no. I'm merely stopping at the 
tavern. My name is George Worthington of Boston. 

Zuzu. Boston, eh? Say, get this one: 

A Boston maiden owns a dog, 
One of those high-toned towsers. 
He's so well bred and nice, 'tis said 
He never pants — he trousers. 

George. Ha, ha. Very well put, indeed, sir. I shall try 
and make a mental note of that. 

Zuzu. Go as far as you like. As for me, they're wait- 
ing for this water and I must flee. Be good and keep your 
nose clean. (Crosses to porch quickly.) Ta-ta. I'll see 
you later. (On porch, turns and quotes) 

Little drops of water, freezing as they fall ; 

Fat man's feet fly upward — biff! and that is all. 
(Exit into house.) 

George. Really you know. (Stares after Zuzu.) He's 
another most extraordinary individual. That was quite a 
clever thing he said about Boston. I must be sure and 



24 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

remember it. Well, well. The landlord I'm quite sure in- 
formed me that this was an extremely quiet place — most 
extraordinary one, I should call it — quite so. (Opens book 
and reads intenth as he walks slozvlv to back C. and exits 
R. U. E.) 

Enter Annabelle at same time from L. U. E. Sound of 
horses' hoofbcats off L. as if in distance. 

Annabelle {gazing after George) . There goes the gen- 
tleman from Boston. {Turns and looks off L.) And here 
comes a gentleman I do not care to meet. {Goes to porch.) 
I'll make myself invisible to him without delay. {Exit into 
house.) 

Hoofbeats have been gradually groiving louder since 
first heard and are nozv just off stage L. Then voice cries 
''Whoa,'* and enter Clay, L. U. E. He is drunk and swag- 
gering and almost rushes on. 

Clay {at back C. stops, looking all about). No one in 
sight, eh? Well, there better be. I'm in no mood to be 
alone, and I hope that someone wears a skirt. I'm just in 
the mood to talk nonsense to a woman. 

Enter Mother from house, stands on porch, calls. 

Mother. Zuzu ! Zuzu ! Where the blazes are you ? 

Clay {aside). Oh, look what I wished for. {Advancing 
to porch, taking off hat and bowing mockingly.) Good 
afternoon, miss. 

Mother {taken aback). Say, is your name Zuzu? 

Clay. No, miss. My name is Francis Clay — at your 
service. {Makes a low bow, then gives a mocking laugh.) 

Mother. Well, it ain't nothin' to me who you are — see ! 

Clay. I'm sorry — awfully sorry. A charming young- 
lady like you — ah, how can you be so distant? 

Mother {smirking and smiling coquettishly at hiui). 
You'll pardon me, sir, but us young girls has to be very 
careful nowadays. {Arranges hair and dress zvith hands.) 

Clay {laughs boisterously). Sure, miss. I understand. 
But won't you come down here — down here to this rustic 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 25 

seat? (Indicates bench.) Fm sure you can have no objec- 
tion since I have introduced myself. (Goes to bench and 
stands expectan tly . ) 

Mother (looking about timidly, then assumes a girlish 
manner and comes dozvn steps to bench). I'm not accus- 
tomed to meeting- gentlemen without my chaperone. 

Clay. Oh, you'll be quite safe with me — (looks at her 
from head to foot) dead safe. (Laughs.) 

Mother (sighs in languishing manner). You can't al- 
ways tell. (Sits on bench.) 

Clay. Oh, / can, you bet. (Sits beside her.) 

Mother (sighs as before). Say, how do you feel today? 

Clay (surprised). How do I feel? Say, if I felt any 
better I'd send for a doctor. Did I catch your name or 
didn't you mention it? 

Mother. I'm Miss Rickie. 

Clay. Stranger in these parts, aren't you? 

Mother. Yes. I'm with the circus up there. 

Clay. Oh! (Puts an arm about her zvaist.) 

Mother (pushes him away). Say, don't get fresh. Just 
because I'm an innocent young girl, don't think you can 
bamboozle me. 

Enter Zuzu from house, stands on porch, eying them. 

Clay (angrily). And don't you get fresh with me, either. 
I don't allow nobody to do that — nobody, understand. 
(Rises to feet unsteadily.) 

Mother. Go on. You're drunk. (Rises.) 

Clay. I am, am I. I'll show you. (Tries to grab her 
waist. She drazvs back.) 

Zuzu (rushing dozvn and shoving Clay back). Keep off 
the grass, young fellow — keep off the grass. 

Clay. Oh! (To Mother.) Say, who's your friend? 

Zuzu. Don't answer him. Mother. Leave him to me. 
I'll spank him in a minute and send him to bed without 
any supper. 

Clay (drazving back, then pulls gun from his pocket). 
Oh, you will, eh? Not while I'm looking you won't. I 
haven't killed a man in three days, and I'm getting peevish. 



26 • WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

If I don't kill somebody every day or two I always get 
peevish. 

Mother {pleadingly). Please, sir; he didn't mean any 
harm. 

Zuzu (aside to her). Run along, Mother, I'll be O. K. 

Clay (to Mother). You shut up! (To Zuzu.) Are 
you a clown, young fellow? 

Zuzu. I should say I am. One of the best in the busi- 
ness. 

Clay. Oh, you are, are you? Well, I'll tell you some- 
thing. I'm glad I met you. I want to laugh and you've 
got to make me — see ! Now, then, if you're such a cracking 
good clown, make me laugh. (Points gun at him.) 

Zuzu. Say, hold on, mister. How in thunder do you 
expect me to make you laugh with that cannon stuck under 
my nose? 

Mother. Please don't shoot, mister. 

Clay (to her). Shut up and keep shut up. I'm running 
the circus now. (To Zuzu.) I don't care how or what you 
do so long as you make me laugh. Now start in. But re- 
member — make me laugh, and laugh good. (Sticks gun 
under Zuzu's nose.) 

Zuzu (aside). Oh, Lord! Ask a dying man to be funny. 
(To Clay.) Say, on the square, I can't make you laugh. 

Clay. Oh, yes, you can. You said you was a good 
clown — now make good. 

Zuzu. What'll I do? 

Clay. As Shakespeare said : "I had rather have a fool 
to make me merry, than experience to make me sad." Go 
ahead. Tell me a funny story — and be sure that it's funny. 
(To Mother, ivho is sneaking toward house). You stay 
here. Miss Rickie — I ain't selfish. You can laugh, too. 
(Mother sits on bench, frightened.) 

Zuzu. Say, please try and laugh easy, won't you? 

Clay. Don't stall about it. Tell me something funny. 

Zuzu. Well, get this one, then : One time I fell asleep 
in a coal bin and two men passed. One said to the other: 
"Isn't he the thrifty one, laying in the winter's coal?" 
(Looks anxiously at Clay to see if he is going to laugh.) 



WHEN THE Cn^CUS CAME TO TOWN. 21 

Cr.AY {keeps serious face, acts as thoitf^h he was think- 
ing point over and couldn't grasp it.) Nix! That's no 
good. You got to come stronger than that. Do another 
one — quick ! 

Zuzu (scratches head thoughtfully). Gosh, I can't think 
of anything. (Pause, then). Get this one — and for the 
Lord's sake, laugh! 

Clay. I'm waiting. I want to laugh just as badly as 
you want me to, but I think you're a bum clown. (Mother 
exhibits anxious feeling.) 

Zuzu. Get this one: Why did they make the hand of 
the Statue of Liberty eleven inches long ? You don't know ? 
Well, if they had made it twelve inches it would have 
been a foot. (Anxiously looks at Clay as before.) 

Clay. Well, that ain't so bad. You're improving. But 
you notice that I ain't laughing yet. 

Zuzu. I do — oh, Lord! Say, let me get a feather and 
tickle you? Are you ticklish? 

Clay. No, but I am devilish — and I don't want any 
more near jokes. Stand on your head. (Gun business.) 

Zuzu. I don't want to — 

Clay. Stand on your head, I say. 

Zuzu. You bet. (Gets dozvn and touches head to floor 
or if performer is capable he may stand on head.) 

Clay. That's very good. Get on your feet again. 

Zuzu. Did you laugh yet? 

Clay. Not yet. Now cry like a baby — and be sure you 
give a correct imitation. 

Zuzu. Say, I can't do that — 

Clay. Oh, yes you can. (Flourishes gun.) 

Zuzu. I believe I can, come to think of it. (Comedy 
business of twisting face and getting ready, then cries baby 
like.) How's that? 

Clay. Rotten. Say, I'm getting awfully nervous. 

Zuzu. You ain't half as nervous as I am. 

Mother (zvho all through this scene has been anxiously 
watching proceedings, laughs uproariously as Zuzu fin- 
ishes baby cry, now appeals to Clay). Say, that sure was 
funny. I nearly laughed my fool head off. 



28 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Clay. Well, I didn't — see ! Shut up ! 

Zuzu. Say, you're the hardest audience I ever worked 
for. You must have come in on a pass. 

Clay. I'll give you just one more chance — just one. 
I want you to give a correct imitation of an automobile 
horn. You understand — that honk-honk sound. And be 
sure this time that it's a good imitation, because this is 
positively your last chance. Get busy. 

Zuzu. Give me a little time first to practice up? 

Clay. Not a practice. Fire away. 

Zuzu. Well, good-by, sweet world. I have looked upon 
your fair face for the last time. (Drazvs deep breath, looks 
all about and then gives a couple of hideous shrieks.) 

Clay '(laughs uproariously , slapping thighs zvith hands, 
etc.). Great! Immense! I knew you could do it. 

Mother (sinking back on seat weakly). Thank God he 
laughed at last. 

Zuzu. Thank him for me, Mother, while you're at it. 

Enter Annabelle from house, stands on porch. 

Annabelle (to Clay). Mr. Clay! What is the mean, 
ing of this? (Conies doivn steps.) 

Clay (advancing to meet her). Why, dear me, if it isn't 
the fair Annabelle. Delighted, I'm sure. (Bozvs.) 

Annabelle. I'm not. You're in no condition to be in 
the company of — 

Clay. Oh, behave. I'm having the time of my life. 
Come and embrace me, fair maid. I'm hungry for one 
touch of your sweet lips. (Tries to embrace her, she 
evades him.) 

Annabelle. How dare you, Mr. Clay! 

Enter Peaches from house, stands on porch. 

Clay (discovering Peaches). Oh, look who's here. 
(To Annabelle.) Say, Annabelle, who's your friend, eh? 
Introduce me. She's a pippin. 

Peaches (coming down steps). Who's the fresh guy. 
Miss Reeves? 

Clay (to Peaches). I'll introduce myself, if she won't. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 29 

My name is Clay. I'm a sweetheart of Annabelle here, but 
she's peevish today and won't kiss me. You have it all over 
her — so come on and give me a kiss, little one. (Mother, 
Zuzu and Annabelle all start to get between Clay and 
Peaches, hut he flourishes revolver and they fall back.) 

Annabelle. You scoundrel! 

Clay. Don't call me names — I won't stand for it. I'm 
going- to kiss that gal or somebody gets hurt. You know 
me. When I want anything I get it. {Points pistol at 
Peaches.) Now, I want a kiss. Do I get one or do you 
get a bullet? 

Zuzu {jumps in front of Peaches with arms outstretched 
in protecting manner). You don't do either, mister. Not 
while I'm on the job. {Picture.) 

George enter from R. U. E., reading book. He comes to 
back C. before discovering situation, then lowers hook and 
comes down to group. 

George. Really, you know, but isn't this rather an un- 
usual situation? {Looks from one to other.) 

Clay {whirls about on George). And who the deuce 
are you? 

George. My name is George Worthington of Boston. 

Clay. Oh, it is, eh? 

George. Yes, sir. {Bowing politely.) 

Annabelle {to George). Oh, .Mr. Worthington, you 
musn't get mixed up in this affair. He will kill you. 

Enter Jerry from house and stands on porch. 
George. Oh, dear me. Is he such a rough person as 
that? Really, you know, there has been quite a lot of ex- 
citement about here since I came. Mr. Skinner, our worthy 
landlord, informed me that this was an extremely quiet 
place. In fact, he went so far as to say it was gosh darn 
quiet — pardon me, ladies. But I fear he is very wrong. 
{To Zuzu and handing him book.) Would you mind 
holding my book, sir? (Zuzu takes it.) Thank you. 
Please be careful with it, won't you? It's a rare volume. 
{To Clay.) You'll pardon me, sir, but what's that instru- 
rnent you have in your hand — if I may ask? 



30 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Clay (bewildered). That's — that's a revolver. 

George. Dear me, is it possible? (Goes close to Clay, 
reaches and takes revolver from him, looks at it critically, 
turning it over and over.) How very interesting. I don't 
believe I ever held one in my hand before. I am told they 
are quite dangerous — especially in some hands. Here, Mr. 
Zuzu, take it. (Hands Zuzu gun.) And please give me 
my book. I have just reached a highly interesting chapter. 
(Zuzu takes gun and gives hook.) 

Clay (now recovering frani his astonishment). You 
white-faced, four-eyed butt-in — I'll make — (threatening at- 
titude). 

Zuzu (imitating George's quiet voice and slightly rais- 
ing gun). Really, you know, I wouldn't do anything if I 
were you. (Clay recoils.) 

Peaches (to George, putting out hand). Kiddo, you're 
all right. Slip it to me. (Shakes George's hand.) 

(Picture as curtain falls. Clay standing with fists 
clinched, scowling at group, Zuzu pointing gun in his 
face, squinting one eye and looking dozvn into the barrel. 
Peaches and George shaking hands. Mother at L. of 
group, reaching for bottle and slyly taking a nip. Anna- 
belle at R. of group, smiling at George. Jerry on porch, 
smiling broadly.) 

Curtain. 



Act H. 

Scene: Kitchen in Annabelle's house. Screened zvin- 
doiv i n Hat R., practical door in flat L., also practical 
door. R. Kitchen cupboard between door and zvindow 
against Flat, on top of which is a sttiffed animal of some 
kind, a pair of horns or anything which zvill appear to 
Mother Rickie as something hideous, for drinking scene. 
Kitchen table and tzvo chairs L. C, one chair R. C. Kitchen 
utensils, dishes, etc., are in the cupboard. Large scoop 
shovel and broom stand in one corner of the room. Also 
a long zvhip with cracker on one end, to be used in riding 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 31 

scene in finale. Lights full on as it is morning. See Scene 
Plot for stage setting. 

At rise of curtain Peaches is discovered at table knead- 
ing a batch of doughy ivhile Zuzu, not in clozvn costume, 
is seated in chair, R., reading newspaper. . 

Peaches {pausing in her task). Say, Znzu, how do you 
tell when dough is done? 

Zuzu (not looking up from paper). I don't tell. 

Peaches. Well, gee whiz, I don't know what to do. 
Miss Reeves asked me if I was wise to the bread making- 
thing. I fourflushed and said yep. I know you knead the 
dough, all right — 

Zuzu (looking up from paper). Sure I need the dough. 
If I didn't I'd be far, far away. I paid the rube landlord 
six days board for the four of us, and now I'm all in but 
my shoestrings. 

Peaches. Oh, I don't mean coin. I mean this dough 
gag here. (Punches dough.) I've slapped it, uppercut it, 
swung on it with right and left swings, and I'm a rummie 
if I know any more than when I started. 

Zuzu (crosses to table, stands looking wisely dozvn at 
dough). I don't see but what that's real nice looking 
dough — beautiful. (Jabs his fingers into it.) 

Peaches (shoving him away). Stop that! Who do you 
suppose will want to eat this after you've had your hands 
in it? 

Zuzu. Well, you've got yours in it. Besides, after it is 
baked it won't make any difference. 

Peaches. Baked? Gee whiz, has it got to be baked? 

Zuzu (laughs). Certainly, you mutt. 

Peaches. Oh, gosh, I didn't know that. 

Zuzu. Nobody could eat it like that. But say, where is 
everybody ? 

Peaches. Jerry Barker's gone up to the postoffice, Miss 
Annabelle's gone to give orders to some of the farm hands, 
and Mother Rickie's gone to the drug store to get a pre- 
scription filled. 



Z2 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Zuzu. Yes, and I'll bet I could fill that prescription 
myself — with my eyes shut, too. 

Peaches. Oh, well, what's the difference. It's her only 
fault. 

Zuzu. Sure. (They both mix dough vigorously for a 
few seconds without speaking.) 

Peaches. Say, I guess this Miss Annabelle ain't some 
nice girl, eh? 

Zuzu. Well, I guess. 

Peaches. Say, the minute she gets wise that our bunch 
is broke, she says to me come over and play in my yard — 
and as long as you want to. 

Zuzu. Well, at that you ain't no charity guest. You 
work at something. Look at the way you are working right 
now. 

Peaches. That's right, too — look. {She kneads dough 
in silence.) 

George is seen at windozv, stands for an instant looking 
in, then enters door in flat, stands inside, smiling at them. 

Zuzu. Wonder what became of that fellow with the 
cannon? Clay, I think his name is. 

Peaches. Say, I'll bet he's running yet. That fellow 
from Boston is sure a nervy cuss. 

George. Ahem! (They turn quickly in surprise.) 

Peaches. Oh, how de do, Mr. Worthington. 

George (coming dozvn to table zvith outstretched hand). 
Vm very well, thank you. Really I am. 

Peaches (has handful of dough, zvhich she slaps into his 
hand as she shakes it). Glad to hear it. 

Zuzu (dough in hand, grabs George's other hand and 
shakes it). Me, too. (Peaches and Zuzu notice zvhat they 
have done and begin to apologise. George laughs good 
naturedly zvhile they zvipe the dough from his hands.) 

Peaches (after zviping George's hands). Say, on the 
dead level ; I wouldn't have done that for a dollar forty 
cents. I was knocked in a twister when I see you breeze in 
here. 

George. You'll excuse me for coming- in unannounced, 
but— 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 33 

Peaches. Oh, that's all right. You can go as far as you 
like around this joint. 

Zuzu (to George). Say, maybe you know something 
about making bread. You're a pretty wise kind of a guy. 

George. I ? How to make bread ? 

Zuzu. Sure. The kid here is up against it. The dough 
has been hammered to a pulp. Now what's the next thing 
to slip over? 

George. Really, you know, I don't believe I am in a po- 
sition to advise you. Have you never read up on the subject 
of bread manufacture? 

Peaches. Nope. 

Zuzu. Nix for me likewise. 

George. Well, well, it's really too bad. A person now- 
adays should have every knowledge at his fingers' ends. 
One never can tell when that particular knowledge may 
play a useful part in one's daily routine. I shall make a 
mental note of the subject of bread manufacture and read 
up on same, and then will be in a position to impart said 
knowledge to you. 

Peaches, Are we supposed to stick around here while 
you grab said knowledge from some book, say in a couple 
of years or so? 

George. Oh, dear, no. It may perhaps only take me a 
matter of two or three weeks to find the proper authority 
on the subject. 

Peaches. Oh, is that all? For three weeks we get no 
bread, Zuzu. 

Zuzu. Well, I'll take pie then. 

George. Or in the absence of bread, why not toast? 

Zuzu. Yes, why not? 

Peaches. Well, you're a couple of nifty boneheads. 
How are you going to have toast without bread? 

Zuzu. Oh, piffle! (Kicks himself.) 

George. I'm sure I spoke without di;e deliberation. 

Peaches (to George). Ain't seen anything of that Clay 
chap, has you? (Busy with dough.) 

George. You are referring to the gentleman whom Mr. 



34 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Zuzu prevented from striking me a couple of days ago, I 
presume ? 

Peaches. Gentleman? Say, if he's a gentleman I'm a 
trained sea lion, believe me. (Pounds dough.) 

Zuzu. And say, don't try to slip any hero decorations 
onto my breast when I ain't looking. He made me roll over, 
play dead and jump through all right, but when you popped 
in, he was an angel child forthwith. 

Peacjhes. Yes, you sure got his number. {Business 
with dough.) 

George. Really, you know, I can't accept any credit for 
the part I played. The man was somewhat intoxicated, 
and — 

Zuzu. Well, you want to look out for him. He makes a 
noise like a very bad boy. He threatens to do things to us 
all. But I'll get him some time for what he did to me — 
watch me, folks. 

Peaches. Forget it, Zuzu, and leave him alone. I can't 
spare you. Besides, flowers cost money, which I ain't got 
a plenty of right now. 

Zuzu. Say, ain't you massaged that stufif about long 
enough, Peaches? 

Peaches. Maybe I has and maybe I hasn't — you can 
search me. But I think I'll take a chance and dump it in 
the oven just to see what'll happen. (George crosses to 
chair, R., sits and begins to read book.) 

Zuzu. I'll help. (Gets scoop shovel and broom from 
corner and comes back to table.) 

Peaches. You always was a great help to your mother, 
Zuzu. 

Zuzu. Well, I guess. (Holds shovel on table and gives 
broom to Peaches.) Sweep her in, kid, and don't leave any 
behind. 

Peaches (getting up on table and szveeping everything 
from it onto shovel). Leave it to me, young man. Leave it 
to me. 

Zuzu. Say, get this: 

''You can't eat your cake," 
They say, "and have it, too." 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 35 

And since I took an ocean trip 
I belieVe the saying's true. 
Peaches. Zuzu, you're a bum poet. Come on now to 
the bake oven and let's see what kind of a baker you are. 
Zuzu (with shovel full of dough, etc.). All right, but the 
Lord only knows what this junk is going to be when we 
get through with it. 

Peaches and Zuzu exit door R., leaving George im- 
mersed in his book. Then Annabelle appears at window, 
looks in, discovers George, gives a start of surprise, smiles 
and a moment later enters door L. in fiat. She zvears a gar- 
den hat which she removes upon entering. 

Annabelle. Why, Mr. Worthington. Good morning. 

George (rising quickly^ then looks about in surprise). 
Really, you know, you quite startled me. I supposed Miss 
Peaches and Mr. Zuzu were here. They were a moment 
ago. 

Annabelle (laughs). They find it hard to remain in one 
spot very long, Mr. Worthington. However, it doesn't mat- 
ter — that is, Fm glad you found time to drop over. 

George (bashfidly) . Thank you. You see, Miss Reeves, 
I came over to — to see if — to bring you this book. (Taps 
it.) Fm quite sure you would enjoy reading it. (Extends 
it.) 

Annabelle (taking book). Oh, isn't it pretty! Such a 
lovely color, and gold binding, too. 

George. Um ! Really, Miss Reeves, I don't believe I no- 
ticed the exterior of the volume. It was the interior I wished 
to call your attention to. But perhaps • you have already 
read the book. It is the life of Carneades. 

Annabelle. No, I have never read it. 

George. No? Then you will thoroughly enjoy it, Fm 
sure. Carneades was a Greek philosopher, born in Gyrene 
in Africa, about 213 B. C. 

Annabelle (aside). Oh, gracious! He's started again. 
(Looking about nervously.) 

George. Carneades studied logic at Athens under Diog- 
enes, but became a partisan of the Academy, and an enemy 



36 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

of the stoics. But, of course, you are familiar with the 
great philosopher, and I am boring you — 

Annabelle. Oh, no ; not at all. I'm sure it is very 
interesting. (Aside.) I do wish he'd talk about somebody 
that / know. 

George. Well, after you have read the volume, we will 
discuss it at length. Carneades had some very peculiar 
views, but none but what were thoroughly practical, es- 
pecially in these times. Tomorrow perhaps you may be fin- 
ished with it and then — 

Annabelle. I'm afraid I shall hardly be able to — to 
read much today. I — I — 

George. Oh, really, you know, there is no hurry. Any 
time you find it convenient. (Picks up hat.) 

Clay appears at ivindoiv; spies on them zvith scozvling 
face. 

Annabelle (as George picks up his hat). Surely, Mr. 
Worthington, you are not going so soon. You have only 
just come. 

George. My errand is completed. (Laughs.) I have 
no further excuse for remaining. (Fumbles azvkzmrdlv with 
hat.) 

Annabelle. Yes, but this being your first visit to 
Golden Rod, you should see more of the place. Would 
you care to walk with me, and — 

George (eagerly). I could walk with you forever and 
ever — (recovering quickly and laughing nerz'ously). That 
is to say, I should be delighted — but some other time, Miss 
Reeves. I expect a box of books by express, and I must 
go to the station for them. 

Annabelle (displeased). Oh, very well. I suppose 
some other time will do. (Turns from him.) 

George (seizes her hand). Stay! I'm afraid I have of- 
fended you. Really, you know, I — 

Annabelle (smiling again). No, no; I appreciate how 
you enjoy your books — how valuable they are. By all means 
go and look after them. But you must surely come again, 
you know. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 37 

George. I surely will — perhaps tomorrow. If the books 
come in this morning, I shall make a careful selection and 
bring some over to you. You do enjoy my books so much. 
{At door in Hat turns.) Until, tomorrow, Miss Reeves. 
(Bows and exits, but not passing ivindow.) 

Annabelle. Oh, dear. He thinks more of his old 
books than he does of me. Oh, what am I saying? Of 
course I don't mean that. (Sighs.) But what a inaii he is. 

Clay leaves ivindozv, enters door in flat^ advances to table, 
takes off hat and slams it angrily on table. Annabelle 
turns, startled at the sound. 

Clay. What's that fellow doing here? 

Annabelle (coldly). I don't know what you mean. 

Clay. Yes, you do — he's your lover. 

Annabelle. Stop ! How dare you. You know that is 
not true. Mr. Worthington is a gentleman, which is more 
than can be truthfully said of you. 

Clay (sneeringly) . Oh, it is, eh? Well, who's to blame 
for it? You are. You promised to marry me, and then 
threw me over. 

Annabelle. That also is an untruth, Mr. Clay. I never 
promised to become your wife. 

Clay. Well, maybe you didn't ; but it was always un- 
derstood between your folks and my folks that some day 
we would marry. And how do you carry out that under- 
standing? I'll tell you how, young lady. By flirting with 
every Tom, Dick and Harry that crosses your path — 
that's how. 

Annabelle. I don't propose to be talked to in this man- 
ner. This is my own house. Nobody invited you to come 
here — go! (Points to door in Hat.) 

Clay (mocking laugh). Oh, I can do that all right, all 
right. And I can come back again, too. (At door.) Let 
me tell you this, fair Annabelle. You are not the only shell 
on the seashore. There's another one about here that looks 
mighty good to me. She's for me, understand ? 

Annabelle. You miserable wretch — 

Clay. Go as far as you like with the hard names — I 



38 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

don't mind. (Laughs mockingly.) But you know me. What 
I go after I usually get. I want that circus girl, and — 
(snaps fingers) that for you! I'll see you later. (Exit 
door in Hat, laughing in mocking manner, then appears at 
windozv, bozvs to her with mock politeness and disap- 
pears, R.) 

Annabelle. Peaches must be warned. He's an un- 
scruplous wretch. (Exits door, R.) 

Mother is heard singing in a maudlin voice off L., then 
after a hit she appears at windozv, glances in, then enters 
door in flat. She is much the worse for drink and carries 
a flask zvrapped in paper in one hand. Comes down to 
table and sits in chair, takes paper off bottle. 

Mother. Mother Rickie, you're no nice lady. I am of 
the opinion that you have — have taken a decided fall off 
the old water wagon. (Hie.) A most decided fall, too. 
(Holds up bottle.) But it ain't your fault. Mother Rickie. 
That there druggist made a mistake in filling your prescrip- 
tion — that's what he done. He put gin in this bottle instead 
of whiskey. (Hie.) And gin is something I hate. Oh, how 
I hate gin. (Takes a long drink.) That druggist ought to 
be pinched. He'll poison somebody some day. He don't 
understand the wink signals. (Hie.) When I winks for 
whiskey, I don't mean gin. And vicie versie. (Rises un- 
steadily, walks hack to cupboard, opens door.) I'll put my 
medicine in here. But just a little sip first before I say fare- 
well to it. (Raises bottle to lips, then her eyes light on the 
stuffed animal or horns on cupboard. She slozvly lowers 
bottle zvhile she falls hack a couple of steps with eyes fixed 
in horror on animal.) Well, for the love of Mike, who let 
you in here? (Stares at it from different angles.) Mother 
Rickie, who's your friend? (Rubs hands over eyes, then 
looks at it again.) Is it there, or is it me? I'll be doggone 
if I know. I'm pretty sure the thing wasn't there a while 
ago. (Makes motion at it.) Shoo! Drat you, shoo! (Pause 
zvith business.) Oh, Lord! It's me. I've got 'em agin — I 
got 'em agin. (Yells.) No more gin for Mother Rickie — 

no more. • n ^ 

Enter Jerry, door in nat. 



WHEN THE QRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 39 

Jerry. Say, what the blazes is the matter with you? 
What you yellin' so for? 

A/[0THER (grabs his ami). Say, do me the favor of your 
Hfe, will you? 

Jerry. Nix. I ain't got a blamed cent. 

Mother. ^ I don't mean a touch. Look around the room 
and tell me just what you see — take a good look, too. 

Jerry (looking all about room). Well, I see a table, a 
couple of chairs, a cupboard, and (names different articles 
but does not mention the animal on cupboard) . 

Mother. Are you sure that's all, Jerry ? 

Jerry (looks up, then:) Dead sure. I don't see an- 
other mortal thing but what I said. 

Mother (groans). Oh, Lord! I knew it! I knew it! It's 
me ! I got 'em — I got 'em. But I'll swear it's the first time 
I ever had those kind of animals. 

Jerry. Say, what's the matter with you, anyhow? 

Mother. Matter? I got animals, Jerry Barker — that's 
what's the matter. 

Jerry. You got animals? (Puzzled.) 

Mother. Them's the words I spoke — animals. I had 
snakes a couple of times, but I can see my finish now. Any 
time you get as far as animals — good night ! 

Jerry (laughs). Oh, come out of it — come out of it. 
You ain't got animals. 

Mother. Don't tell me I ain't got something when I say 
I have. Look there! What's that? (Points at cupboard top.) 

Jerry (looks, then laughs). Get away with that noise. 
That's only a stuffed animal. — that's all. 

Mother (grabs his arm excitedly). Do you — do you 
see it, too? 

Jerry. Sure I do — plain as a pass in a bunch of paid 
tickets. 

Mother (breathes a deep sigh). Thank the stars for 
that. Then in that case I guess just another little drink 
won't hurt me any. (Takes drink) 

Jerry (snatching bottle). That'll do you, Mother. You've 
had too much. You keep on and the first thing you know 
you'll have a whole menagerie. 



40 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Mother (takes bottle from him again ^ goes to cupboard, 
puts bottle on shelf and shuts door). I know when I gets 
enough, Jerry Barker. 

Jerry. Sure you know when you've had enough. When 
you've had enough is when they stop making it forever. 

Mother. I know my business all right. (Hie.) Say, 
how you feelin', anyhow? 

Jerry. Oh, I'm O. K., I guess. 

Mother. Get any mail? 

Jerry. Nope. Not even the scratch of a pen. Doggone 
funny I don't hear from his nibs. I wires him that we was 
stuck up and couldn't move unless he came through with 
twelve hundred bucks. But the bloomin' tightwad don't 
even make a peep to show that he's alive. 

Mother (with a heavy sigh). Well, I swear to gracious 
I don't know what's to become of us after we've stayed out 
them six days Zuzu paid for at the tavern. 

Jerry. Well, it's all Peaches' fault. This Reeves gal 
offered to slip me the coin, but Peaches says nix, and — 
there you are. Peaches plays the high and mighty and 
says as how she will work her finger ends to the bone 
before anyone can slip her any money. Humph ! I never 
could see this hoity-toity pride stuff. To be proud is one 
thing and to be foolish is another. Some women can be 
too all-fired proud. 

Mother (comedy pose). Well, and what if we be? 

Jerry (laughs). Say, you ain't in that class — 

Mother (indignantly). Don't you cast any reflections 
on me, Jerry Barker. I'm a real lady, I am. 

Enter Clay, door in flat. 

Jerry. Oh, I ain't. You've got wings spoutin' on your 
back, Mother. 

Clay (coming down). Just the people I want to see. 
(Mother and Jerry turn to him in surprise.) 

Jerry (aside). And the villain still pursues us. 

Mother (to Clay). Well, we don't want to see you. 
We're very particular who we talk to. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 41 

Clay (laughs). Well,- I'm not — that's why I'm going to 
talk to you. 

Mother. I got no mortal use for a drunken person, 
nohow. 

Clay. Then in that event you surely must hate yourself. 

Jerry. Say, if you want to talk, talk. But be careful 
what kind of talk you talk — see ! 

Clay. Don't get angry. I'm here for your own good. 
You're broke and your circus is tied up. Now I'm a good- 
hearted sort and I'm going to help you out. 

Mother (suspiciously). Oh, you are, eh? Well, what 
have we got that you want? 

Jerry. Now, Mother, don't get peevish. Listen to what 
the gentleman has to say. 

Mother. Humph! (Shrugs shoulders in contempt.) 

Clay (to Mother). I'm glad you put your question so 
direct. What I want is, I firmly believe, in your power to 
give me. (Impressively.) I — want — Peaches! 

Mother. What ! 

Jerry. For the love of Mike! 

Clay. And to get her I will cheerfully pay off the en- 
tire indebtedness of the show and give you a handsome 
sum besides. 

Mother (sarcastically). Oh, you will, eh? Why, say, 
you ain't got money enough to look cross-eyed at that gal. 

Jerry. Why, Mother, the gentleman means all right. 

Clay. Certainly I do. I love her madly. 

Mother. Go away with that stuff. I've heard that be- 
fore — most every town we ever played in, some guy would 
throw that at me. Take it from me, you'd better take your 
playthings and go home. There's nothin' doin' around here, 
kiddo ! 

Clay. Come, come; you're only standing in your own 
light. Help me win the hand of Peaches and everything is 
rosy for you. Refuse me your assistance and you stay here, 
tied up, bag and baggage. 

Jerry. That's so, mother. The gentleman is right. 

Clay. And I'll tell you one thing more. I'll get the girl 



42 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

anyhow, so you might as well agree and get some money 
to boot. 

Mother (going to Clay, drazving herself up . proudly 
and looking him steadily in the eyes). That'll be about all 
for you, Mister Man. I've seen a few like you before in my 
young life. You think because we are circus folks and are 
down and out that you can come along and make us dizzy 
with your money — so dizzy that we'll fall for you. Nothin' 
doin'. I may like my little drink now and then, but that's 
as far as I go — just as far as I go. I had the bringin' up of 
Peaches, and I want to say right here and now that when 
she gets ready to take unto herself a husband, it would be 
no man that resembles you. How do you like that mono- 
logue, eh? 

Clay {angrily). I'll show you. There's more than one 
way to kill a cat. {At door in Hat.) Sometimes there's two 
or three ways. {Exit, angrily, door in flat.) 

Mother {crosses to cupboard). He's a bad actor, that 
guy. He left a bad taste in my mouth. {Brings out bottle 
and takes a swallow.) Um! That's better — much better. 

Jerry. Bah ! You make me sick ! 

Mother. Then run along to a doctor and leave me 
alone. 

Jerry {disgustedly). First it's Peaches with her high 
falutin' ideas, the Lord knows where she gets 'em — 

Mother (interriipting). She gets 'em from me — see! 

Jerry. She refuses money to get us out of this hole, 
and now you put on the high and mighty, and — oh, I'm sick 
— sick of the whole business. I'm going out doors where 
there's plenty of space and kick myself black and blue. 
{Strides angrily to door in flat and exits.) 

Mother {calling after him). Waita minute, Jerry, and 
I'll go along and help you. (Exits same door.) 

Enter Peaches and Annabelle, R. 

Annabelle. I'm awfully glad you told me that you 
could do 'all those clever things. It will be just the thing 
for my lawn party tonight. 

Peaches. Then we'd better rehearse here and now. I'm 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 43 

also tickled to death that you put me hep to that Clay per- 
son. If he comes monkeying around me, I'll fix his clock 
so it won't keep good time any more, believe me. 

Annabelle. I believe you would at that. 

Peaches (imitation of circus barker). Now, then, re- 
member the show is not yet half over. The grand concert 
takes place immediately after this performance, and the 
gentlemanly ushers will pass among you with the tickets, 
which are for sale at ten cents each. Oh, you concert ! 
Stick for the big show, ladies and gents. 

(Introduce specialty by Peaches and Annabelle, after 
which both exit, R. Specialty may be omitted if desired.) 

Enter Zuzu, door in flat. 

Zuzu. Wonder where everybody is. I have been chasing 
all over the place, and everybody just there ahead of me 
and gone. (Calls.) Oh, Peaches ! 

Enter Mother, door in flat. 

Mother. Hell, Zuzu. How do you feel, anyhow? 

Zuzu. Like a two-year-old in a ten-acre pasture. How's 
every little thing? 

.Mother. Say, I'll tell you something. That Clay guy 
was here. 

Zuzu. Did he have his artillery with him? 

Mother. No. Say, I called him to a fare-thee-well. I 
looked for him to pull a gun every minute, but he didn't. 

Zuzu. Good reason. He ain't got any. I got it. But 
what's the noise, anyhow? 

Mother. He offered Jerry money to lift the show — 

Zuzu. And you balled him out for that ? Shame on you. 
Mother Rickie. 

Mother. Is that so. Wait till I tell you what he wanted 
and then see if I'm in bad. He wanted Peaches, Zuzu. 

Zuzu (slozvly and impressively). He wanted Peaches? 
He wanted our Peaches? 

Mother. He sure did. 

Zuzu. What for ? He ain't got no circus. 



44 . WHEN THE CH^LCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Mother. Circus? Who mentioned circus? He thought 
he had money enough to^-oh, don't you understand, Zuzu? 

Zuzu (slozvly daivning on liini). Well, of all the low- 
down, white-livered — 

Mother. Oh, go ahead and swear good and plenty. I 
don't care. 

Zuzu. Where did he go? I want to take a punch at him. 

Mother. Don't worry. I think you'll have a chance. 
He said he'd be back. Now, Zuzu, listen to me. You and 
Peaches has got to get married — 

Zuzu. Get wdiat? 

Mother. Married was the word I used. Tied together 
with the tightest doggone knot that can be tied. She likes 
you and you like her — what's to prevent? 

Zuzu (bewildered). Gee whiz. Mother, Peaches is my 
pal. I never thought of her as anything else. Gosh all Fri- 
day, I don't want to get married. 

Mother. Say, it ain't going to hurt you any. 

Zuzu. Well, I'd rather have a tooth pulled. 

Mother. Then have one pulled if you like it better, but 
marry her you shall — after that tooth pulling ; anything so 
you're satisfied. 

Zuzu. I wonder what Peaches will say? 

Mother. She'll say yes, like a sensible gal. But any- 
how, she's got to have a husband's protection, I can see 
that more every day. Pll go send her in here, and then you 
get busy and make a noise like a near bridegroom — under- 
stand? (Exit R.) 

Zuzu (nervously looking about). Gosh, I don't know how 
to ask a gal to be my wife. I'll have a fit and three cases of 
pip besides. I got to get out of here and get my courage 
up. I'll sneak away for a few minutes and rehearse a pro- 
posal speech. (Exit, door L., declaiming as he goes:) 
Peaches, I love you. Will you be my husband — I mean, 

Enter Clay, door in flat. 

Clay. I never saw a girl in all my life like Peaches — 
she's going to be mine or there's going to be a heap of 
trouble. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 45 

Enter Peaches^ door R. 

Peaches {as she enters). All right, Zuzu, Fm coming. 
(Starts back in surprise as she discovers Clay.) Oh, I 
thought Zuzu was here. Excuse me. (Turns to exit, R.) 

Clay (pleadingly) . Just one moment, please. 

Peaches (comes back). Well, what's the idea? 

Clay. It's something for your own good. Peaches. 
Listen: A few moments ago I made an offer to supply 
money enough to move the circus. Do you know why I 
made the offer? 

Peaches. Yes. You're crazy. 

Clay. Well, maybe I am — crazy over you. 

Peaches (surprised) . Eh? Crazy over me? 

Clay. Exactly. I am perfectly serious and mean to do 
the honorable thing by you, for never in my life have I 
ever met before a girl I thought I could give up every vice 
and be content to call her my wife. My heart cries out for 
you. Peaches. Ever since I first saw you your face has been 
before me — sleeping or waking — 

Peaches (interrupting). Say, what are you doing, read- 
ing one of them yellow novels? 

Clay. No. I'm trying to tell you how much I love )C>u — 
worship you. 

Peaches. Well, I'll tell you something in a minute and 
it won't be how much I love you. I'm just about half wise 
to^ you, so you'd better not linger longer expecting to be 
invited to stay to supper. 

Clay. So you throw me down, do you? Well, you're a 
little fool. Look at what I could do for you — everything. 
And what have you got now? Nothing! 

Peaches. Oh, as for that, I've got Mother Rickie and 
Zuzu and Jerry Barker. I ain't a bit lonesome for company 
— especially yours. 

Clay. All right, I'll go. But before I do I'm going to 
have a kiss. 

Enter Zuzu, L. Stands for an instant. 
Peaches (soberly). I wouldn't do that, if I were you, 
Mister Man. 



46 WHEN THE CH^CUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Clay (suddenly grabs her and is just about to -kiss her 
when Zuzu forces his way between them, raises his face 
tozvard Clay and is kissed by the latter before he realizes 
his mistake). Bah! You'll be sorry for this — you fool! 

Zuzu (laughs). I'm sorry already. (IVipes lips vigor- 
ously.) 

Clay (goes to door in Hat). You think you're a cute lot. 
But I'm not through yet. When there's no other way to 
move your show, come to me. You'll find me a good sort. 
(Exit door in Hat.) 

Peaches. Zuzu, you was right on the job again, wasn't 
you? 

Zuzu. Yes, I'm there like a duck. (Pause.) Say, Mother 
Rickie told me to do something, and darn me if I know 
what it was anymore. 

Peaches. Go to the drug store for her. 

Zuzu. Nope. 

Peaches. Postoffice ? 

Zuzu. Nope — that wasn't it. 

Peaches. Get a pail of water? 

Zuzu. Nope — water? Water for her? Nix. 

Peaches (thinks). Oh, I know. Get a bucket of coal. 

^zu. No, no ; nothing like it. 

Peaches. Say, what is this? A guessing contest? 

Zuzu (scratches head thoughtfidly) . Oh, now I got it. 

Peaches. Did you have to scratch your head to find it? 
You'll get a splinter in your finger sometime, scratching 
that wooden head of yours, Zuzu. 

Zuzu. Don't talk. I'll forget it again. Oh yes. Mother 
Rickie wanted me to ask you — to ask you. (Bash fid busi- 
ness. ) 

Peaches. Well, some on, come on. 

Zuzu. Say, don't rush me. It's bad enough without be- 
ing rushed, you know. 

Peaches. It must be awful, whatever it is. 

Zuzu. Oh, it's worse than that. Say, I guess I'll wait 
till tomorrow. 

Peaches. Nix. Slip it to me now. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 47 

Zuzu {draws long breath). Well, Alother Rickie said for 
you to be my wife — 

Peaches. What's that? 

Zuzu. And she said if you didn't she'd give you some- 
thing you couldn't get in a grocery store. 

Peaches. Do you mean that she wants you and me to 
get married? 

Zuzu. Sure — that's the gag. 

Peaches. Well, how about you? Do you want to tie 
up with me? 

Zuzu. Gosh all Friday, ain't I been sweating blood here 
for an hour trying to put you wise? 

Peaches. Then ask me in the proper manner. 

Zuzu. How in blazes do I know the proper manner? 

Peaches. You must kneel down, clasp you hands and 
then look the silliest you ever looked, then say: "Peaches, 
I Iqve you with all my heart. Will you be my wife?" 

Zuzu. Have I got to do that? 

Peaches. Sure. I read that in a book once, and I 
never forgot it. Now come on. Slip it to me, the kneeling 
biz, clasped hands and foolish look. 

Zuzu. Well, I'll be the Patsie. Here goes. (Drops on 
knees and does as she told him, then rises to feet.) 

Peaches. That was very well done, Zuzu. I believe 
you've been through with that stuff before, you do it so 
good. 

Zuzu. Never. Cross my heart. But come. What do 
you say now? 

Peaches. Me? (Thinks.) Oh, yes. I remember now. 
Oh, Zuzu, this is so sudden ! 

Zuzu. Does that mean yes? 

Peaches. Bet your boots ! 

Zuzu grabs her, kisses her^ and just as he does, Mother 
appears in door, R., Annabelle at door, L., Jerry at win- 
dozv and George opens door in Hat and looks in. Zuzu and 
Peaches remain clasped in each others' arms long enough 
to have the other people zuithdraw from view, after shozv- 
ing surprise at the scene. They are not discovered by Zuzu 
and Peaches. 



48 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Zuzu. (holding Peaches at arm's length). Gosh, that 
was a heap better kiss than I had a while ago. 

Peaches. Well, I should hope so. 

Zuzu. Just think. That's the first time Fve kissed you 
in all the years Fve known you. 

Peaches. I should hope so again. 

Zuzu. Gosh, Pm happy. You know it ain't so bad as I 
thought it was going to be. 

Peaches. You ain't married yet. 

Zuzu. Oh, Lord — that's so! (Groans dismally.) 

Peaches (laughs). Oh, it won't be as bad as all that. 
(Sighs contentedly). Pm happy now, Zuzu. (Pauses^ then 
after a moment.) That is — almost. If we was only back 
with the circus again — gee, wouldn't it be great! 

Zuzu. Say, Peaches, I can smell the sawdust now. 
Can't you. (Music cue for orchestra to start playing softly 
a dreamy zvaltz, gradually working to a faster tempo, then 
changing to a fast circus gallop as Peaches does the riding 
business on kitchen table. Music dies azvay to the dreamy 
zvaltj:: as she delivers the tag speech just before the curtain 
falls.) 

Peaches (excitedly, as if she zvere really back inside 
the big tent and zvas living again the excitement of the 
circus). Yes, yes, and I can see the crowd coming into the 
tent. I can hear the butchers yelling "Peanuts, Popcorn 
and Lemonade !" Now the band begins to play — it's the 
overture, Zuzu — it's the overture ! Are you all ready ? It's 
the overture, I tell you ! Hark ! Listen to that crowd out 
there. It's a big one today, and we got to work our heads 
off to please 'em ! We must hurry, Zuzu. It's our turn now 
to get some of that applause — our turn now. Here's my 
horse! (Alongside of kitchen table.) Isn't he a beauty? 
Get your whip, Zuzu. Get your whip ! We're all ready — all 
ready! (Jumps on top of kitchen table.) 

Zuzu (grabs zvhip from corner and cracks if, then 
shouts) . Come on. Peaches ; come on, Queen of Bareback 
Riders! (Cracks zvhip vuhile orchestra is nozv playing fast 
and furious.) 

Peaches (yelling excitedly). Come on, Zuzu, King of 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 49 

Clowns. We'll give 'em an act today that'll show 'em all up. 

(Zuzu cracks whip and zvalks about the tabic imitating 
the actions of a ring master, zvhile Peaches, on top of table, 
imitates a circus rider to lively music by orchestra. Make 
this a lively, exciting scene, but not too long. Music ceases 
abruptly, Peaches jumps to floor, stares about in a dazed 
manner as if just awaking from a deep sleep, then drops 
into a chair by the sifie of the table) — 

Peaches (sloivly and sadly). No, it ain't real circus, 
Zuzu. I thought it was — but it ain't. (She buries her head 
in arms on table and sobs aloud, repeating, ''It ain't real 
circus, Zuzu — it ain't real circus." Zuzu stands alongside 
in sorrowfid attitude, stroking her head with his hand and 
gazing sadly dozvn on her, to — ) 

Curtain. 



Act hi. 

Scene: Same as Act I. Time is late afternoon and early 
evening. Lights are gradually dimmed from ten minutes 
after the opening to near finish of act. Very dim at end to 
give better effect to the illumination of tent. 

As curtain is well up, enter Jerry, L. U. E., follozved by 
Clay. Jerry comes down to bench and sits down, fanning 
himself with hat. Clay sits on an arm of bench, takes out 
cigarette, lights it and smokes. 

Clay {offering Jerry cigarette). Have one, Mr. Barker? 

Jerry {shortly). No — don't smoke 'em. 

Clay {shrugs shoulders, then puts box in pocket). Oh, 
all right. {Takes several puffs before speaking, while 
Jerry continues fanning face with hat.) Why didn't you 
stop when I called you down the road back there ? 

Jerry. Stop? What for? 

Clay. I wanted to talk to you and didn't care about 
chasing way down here to the tavern — to be seen by every- 
body. 



50 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Jerry. Well, if you don't want anybody to look on your 
manly face and form, beat it. I ain't stopping you. 

Clay {cool and calm voice and manner, after three or 
four more puffs on cigarette). Mr. Barker, you're a blame 
fool! 

Jerry (starting to his feet angrily). I'm a what? 

Clay (laying a hand on Jerry's shoulder and forcing him 
back in seat). Don't get riled. I meant no offense. 

Jerry (growlingly). You'd better not mean anything. 

Clay (smoothly). Mr. Barker, a few days ago, when 
I last had the pleasure of conversing with you and Miss 
Rickie — you remember? 

Jerry. Yes, I remember. What's the answer? 

Clay. You seemed to think rather favorably of a cer- 
tain proposition I made. Miss Rickie did not think so well 
of it. 

Jerry. And she bawled you proper. (Chuckles.) 

Clay (shrugs shoulders). I have forgotten that days 
ago. Since our last interview I have tried to see you alone, 
but — (throws cigarette azvay, then looks all about) I un- 
derstand the landlord is clamoring for more money and 
threatens to put you out unless some is soon forthcoming. 
Right ? 

Jerry. You're right. Zuzu paid him in advance all the 
money he had, and now — well, I suppose we got to get out. 

Clay. Exactly. And you have had no word from the 
owner of the circus? 

Jerry. Narry a word. (Moodily turns hat in his fingers.) 

Clay. What's going to become of you? 

Jerry (gives despondent shrug of shoulders). Ain't 
routed that far ahead, pardner. 

Clay. After tonight Cyrus Skinner will get still more 
peevish and tomorrow — say, it's a mortal sin to let that 
circus lay here and rot. You'll be held responsible for it 
by everybody. All these folks here will have no place to lay 
their heads or anything to eat. As manager you should not 
allow anything in the nature of a golden opportunity to 
pass without making an attempt to grab it. Am I talking 
sense? 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 51 

Jerry (still tzvirling his hat in his hands nervously and 
evidently thinking seriously of zvhat Clay has been saying). 
Yes — it listens good. 

Clay (pleased). All right — you're a sensible man. 
Now then, I'm coming to the point. You have an idea of 
what I want — and that is — (pauses) Peaches! 

Jerry (looks up, letting hat fall to ground). Peaches? 

Clay. Yes, I still have not given up hope. I have made 
up my mind, and — but I need your assistance. I have a 
plan, Mr. Barker, and the very second you agree to help me 
carry it out, I will place in your hands two thousand dollars. 

Jerry (as if dazed zvith offer and repeats:) Two thou- 
sand dollars. 

Clay. Yes. i^^a/ money, too. Here. (Takes roll of hills 
from pocket and shoves it under Jerry's nose.) Real money, 
I repeat — and that's the kind that talks. It's yours — take it. 
(Jerry stares at money.) Don't hesitate. Think of what 
this money will do. Release the show, make everybody 
happy, and— ^why, man, there's no end of all the things you 
can do with it. It practically means that you'll be the sole 
owner of the outfit. Think, man, what that means. Come. 
Will you take it, or not? 

Jerry (slozvly reaching one hand tozvavds money, then 
lets arm fall as his fingers touch it.) No! I'll be darned if 
I will! (Rises to feet and faces Clay sternly.) I almost 
fell for your dirty money, but I ain't as bad as that. (Picks 
hat from ground, points to tent on drop.) That outfit will 
stay there till hell freezes over if I have to do what you 
want. And that's some long period of time, providin' I have 
the proper dope on the place you're goin' to play more than 
a one night stand in some day. And also get this, Mr. Clay. 
If this here ground was my circus lot, I'd muss it up with 
your carcass. But as it don't happen to be under my gifted 
management, I don't feel at liberty to do so. In such a 
case I'll bid you good night. (Crosses to steps and on porch 
turns.) And I sure do hope you choke! (Exits into house.) 

Clay (gases after him a moment, then laughs mock- 
ingly). Mr. Barker, you're a — well, what I called you a 
while ago, and also several things besides. (Turns, takes 



52 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

out box of cigarettes.) I thought I had him. (Lights cigar- 
ette.) Oh, well, I shall have to do without his help. (Starts 
slow walk to back center.) 

Enter George from house, reading book. Comes down to 
bench, sits down, eyes on book. 

Clay (turns as George sits on bench, takes two or three 
puffs on cigarette, comes slowly dozvn to bench, leans on 
back, looking over George's shoulder.) This is quite a 
pleasant evening, isn't it? (Sarcastic tone of voice.) 

George (looking up — quietly). Yes, it was before you 
came. (Resumes reading.) 

Clay (clinching fist and makes as if to strike him). Say, 
it wouldn't take much to put you in the hospital. And a 
little bit more to put you in the morgue. 

George (not looking up from book). Really, you know, 
you're very disagreeable — positively rude. I am deeply in- 
terested in this work, you know. It's a treatise on Central 
Forces. The forces whose action is to cause a moving body 
to tend toward a fixed point. (Lays book on bench and 
stands up.) Now, for an illustration. We will presume that 
you are the moving body. Over yonder (points to L. U. E.) 
is a fixed point. Now, science teaches us that by applying 
a certain force — say the toe of my boot — to any moving 
body, which means yours, the latter may be hurled with 
considerable force towards the said fixed point. Shall I 
experiment or — 

Clay. You are a very clever person. (Starts toward 
back^ C, turns and faces George.) Perhaps entirely too 
clever. Perhaps the next time we meet I shall be in a posi- 
tion to say something equally as clever. Perhaps even more 
clever — who knows? (Gives George an insolent look, exits 
R. U. E., turning at exit and looks again at George.) 

George (stands quietly looking at Clay during his speech 
and until Clay is zvell off, then sighs and sits down.) Dear 
me. What a very ill-natured person he is. I shall be sorry 
very soon that I never made an exhaustive study of the 
science of manly art; (Resumes reading.) 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 53 

Enter Zuzu, L. U. E. He has a large bunch of flowers 
in one hand and comes on in excited manner. Is about to 
enter house when he discovers George. Whirls about and 
comes down to bench. 

Zuzu. Hello, Mr. Worthington. How are you? 

George (looking up, then rises with outstretched hand). 
Mr. Zuzu — delighted, I'm sure. {Shakes his hand cordially.) 
Really, you know, I haven't seen very much of you of late. 

Zuzu {trying to get his hand loose). Yes, I know, but 
would you mind giving me back my hand? I might want 
to use it again sometime. 

George {releasing his hand). Oh, how thoughtless of 
me, to be sure. You'll forgive me, but I was so glad to see 
you. 

Zuzu {feeling of fingers). I guess they're all there yet. 
Say, but you got some grip. I wouldn't think it to look 
you over. 

George. Really, you know. I wasn't aware of the fact. 

Zuzu. I was. {Feeling fingers again.) 

George. What a beautiful bunch of flowers. You surely 
must have a good, pure soul, Mr. Zuzu. Flowers ! Ah, how 
I love them. {Smells them.) They represent all that is 
pure and — 

Zuzu. Yep. I'm dead stuck on 'em. Flowers are some 
hit with me all right. But didn't you hear about it? 

George. I ? Hear of what, Mr. Zuzu ? 

Zuzu. I'm going to do it. 

George. Going to do it? Really, you know, I am thor- 
oughly mystified. Kindly elucidate. 

Zuzu {puzzled). E — luce — i what? 

George. Please explain, if you please. 

Zuzu. Oh ! Me and Peaches are going to be — oh, you 
know. We're going to be married. 

George {pleased). Is it possible! Why, I am so glad to 
hear that. 

Zuzu. Yep. I've been rushing around today, trying to 
get everything ready for the big doings. But I can't locate 
Peaches, and old Skinner's gone fishing. Just as soon as I 



54 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

find Peaches and Mr. Skinner, the thing's going to be 
pulled off. Got the flowers all right. Can't have no wed- 
ding without flowers — I should say not. 

George (laughs). Well; hardly. And so Miss Peaches is 
going to become Mrs. Zuzu ! 

Zuzu. Yep. 

George. Well, I want to be among the first to congratu- 
late you, Mr. Zuzu. You surely will get a most charming 
young lady for your life's companion. (Puts out his hand.) 

Zuzu (putting right hand behind his back). Yes, but 
ril. take your word for it, if it's all the same to you. 

George (laughs). Oh, come now. I want to shake your 
hand. I insist. 

Zuzu (slowly putting out his hand). Well, go easy, then, 
old scout. (They shake hands.) Now you'll have to excuse 
me. I got to go in and dig up some kind of wedding 
clothes. I want to look nice, 'cause I don't get married 
every day, you know. (Turns to go into house.) 

George. My wardrobe, such as it is, is entirely at your 
disposal, Mr. Zuzu. If you won't be offended at my offer. 

Zuzu (at steps). Offended? Say, I ain't in the habit of 
getting offended at anything like that. And — say, you're 
a prince, old scout. They don't make 'em any better than 
you. 

George. I try to be the right sort — 

Zuzu. And you certainly are. Now just for that you get 
a special invite to the wedding. 

George. I thank you — really I do. 

Zuzu. If I get stuck up for a clean collar — what size do 
you wear, and can I borrow one? 

George (laughs). Everything I possess is at your dis- 
posal, and welcome. 

Zuzu. Thanks. So long, and be sure and stick around 
for the large proceedings. Ta-ta ; see you later. And if you 
see one of your collars around my neck, don't make any 
exclamation of surprise, will you? I don't v/ant the wed- 
ding guests to get next. (On porch.) 

George. Surely not. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 55 

Zuzu. Thanks again. See you quite soon. (Exit into 
house.) 

George (laughs quietly). Bless their simple souls! And 
I hope they get everything in the way of happiness, and 
more than their share of peace and joy. (Sighs.) Ah, me! 
I wonder what it would seem like to love and be loved ! 
(Turns quickly, goes to bench, sits down and picks up 
book.) The only sweetheart I have ever known — a good 
book! (Becomes immersed in book.) 

Enter Annabelle, L. U. E. She is handsomely dressed 
in afternoon walking gown. Comes in rapidly and down 
stage and is about to mount porch steps when she discov- 
ers George. She hesitates, then comes tip-toeing down to 
bench. 

Annabelle (leaning over back of bench). And what is 
the gentleman from Boston absorbing now? 

George (startled). Really, you know. (Drops book, takes 
off hat in rising, then drops it to Uoor again, reaches down 
for it and picks up book instead of hat, tries to put book 
on head, discovers mistake and allows book to fall to Uoor, 
at same time extending his hand to her.) Annabelle — Miss 
Reeves, I mean — beg your pardon. Really, you know. This 
is so unexpected. 

Annabelle (hand in his for an instant). I never in- 
tended to startle you. 

George. Startle me? Not at all. I was — was just think- 
ing of you. Wasn't that strange? 

Annabelle. Yes, quite strange, considering the fact 
that you were also wrapped up in your book. (Shy laugh.) 

George. Really, you know. I ivas thinking of you. True, 
I was looking at the pages of my book, but was entirely 
unconscious of the fact. Do you believe in mental telepathy, 
Miss Reeves. (Noiv getting up and standing at back of 
bench, bending over her shoulder.) 

Annabelle (seated on bench). I don't know. Why do 
you ask? 

George. Because mental telepathy is a most wonderful 
thing. I was thinking of a certain person a short time ago, 



56 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

and wishing with all my heart and soul that that certain 
person were here. And lo, and behold, that certain person 
comes — here. 

Annabelle (hanging head). And who was the person 
— Zuzii ? 

George (hesitatingly) . No — it was you. 

Annabelle (laughs teasingly). Why, Mr. Worthington, 
mental telepathy had no part in my coming whatsoever. I 
came to the wedding. 

George. Ah, perhaps — perhaps. But you shall not spoil 
my theory. I have made rather an exhaustive study of 
mental telepathy — in fact, have delivered several lectures 
and written papers on that most absorbing subject. (Stops, 
clears his throat and gets ready to continue.) 

Annabelle (aside, nervously). Goodness! I don't want 
to hear any lecture, 

George (assuming oratorical pose and voice). Telepathy 
is the power of communication between one mind and an- 
other by means unknown to the ordinary sense organs, and 
usually called thought transference. Scientific work on 
thought transference began systematically in England in 
1882, when the society for — 

Enter Zuzu from house. 

Zuzu. Mr. Worthington — oh, beg pardon. I thought 
you was all alone. Good evening, Miss Reeves. (Anna- 
belle smiles and bozvs.) Could I speak with you just a 
second, Mr. Worthington? 

George. Certainly, Mr. Zuzu. (To Annabelle.) You'll 
pardon me, won't you? (She bows.) 

Zuzu (drazving George to one side, zvhispers in his ear). 
If it ain't asking too much, you know. 

George. Not at all, Mr. Zuzu. I have several pair in my 
trunk. Help yourself. (Zuzu whispers in his ear again.) 
Oh, no ; they're not heavy. I wear the same weight the 
year around. 

Zuzu (smiling broadly). Much obliged, Mr. Worthing- 
ton. Any time you get married I'll do as much for you. 
(Turns and goes to steps.) You got good taste, Mr. Worth- 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 57 

ington. Go to it. I can tell she likes yoit. (Exits quickly.) 

Annabelle {turning head — bashful business). Oh, dear 
me ! 

George (taking off glasses and wiping them to cover 
his confusion). Really, you know, Mr. Zuzu interrupted 
our conversation. What zvere we talking about? 

Annabelle. I'm sure I don't remember. Wasn't it 
something about — 

George (bending over her). No, it wasn't anything of 
importance. (Pauses, then tenderly.) Did you hear what 
Mr. Zuzu said? 

Annabelle (misunderstanding purposely). No. He 
whispered in your ear. How could I ? 

George. I refer to the words he spoke just before he 
entered the house. 

Annabelle. And I would like to know what secret he 
whispered in your ear. 

George. He wanted to borrow — ahem — something I 
can't discuss with you. 

Annabelle. Oh! (Hangs head.) 

George. And now that I answered that question, answer 
mine. Did you hear what he said. 

Annabelle (softly). Yes — I heard. 

George. And — and — (bending tenderly over her.) 

Annabelle (rising quickly). Oh, Mr. Worthington, I 
had almost forgotten something. Peaches asked me if I 
would sing a song at her wedding tonight, and — and — I — I 
would like to sing it now for you so that you can give me 
your opinion as to whether it would be suitable for the oc- 
casion or not. 

George (sighs). Really, you know, I'm not a good judge 
of — however, I should be delighted, I'm sure. (He sits on 
bench. She stands back of him and sings song to him. 
George after finish of her song, rises from bench, takes her 
hand and is about to grow sentimental again, when — ) 

Enter Peaches, L. U. E. She is dressed in somewhat 
fancy costume, gotten up extravagantly for the wedding 
ceremony. She comes in with a rush and down to C. stage. 



58 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

George (as she comes in — aside). Really, I could almost 
swear at this interruption. Confound it all. There, I did. 

Peaches. Gee whiz ! Hello, folks. Am I late for the big 
doings? (Trying to catch her breath.) 

Annabelle (laughs, then:) Oh, no, I think not. 

Peaches. Say, I didn't spoil nothing by my buttin' in 
so sudden like, did I? (Glancing from one to the other.) 

George (confused). Why — why, of course not, Miss 
Peaches. We are delighted to — to have you with us, I'm 
sure. Aren't we. Miss Reeves. (Shozvs disgust.) 

Annabelle. Oh, yes, of course. (Aside.) She's knocked 
everything in the head. 

Peaches. Say, folks, pipe the glad rags. How do I 
stack up, eh? (Turns around several times for their inspec- 
tion.) 

Annabelle. Peaches, you look charming. (Kisses her.) 

George (extending hand). Miss Peaches, I want to con- 
gratulate you. (Grasps her hand.) I'm sure you are going 
to be happy. You could not find a better hearted man than 
your own Mr. Zuzu, and he will make you a devoted hus- 
band. (Releases her hand.) 

Peaches. Say, you said something then all right, all 
right. They never made 'em any better than him. When 
they made him they lost the pattern. (George laughs.) 

Annabelle (to Peaches). I wish you would permit me 
to have my way in a certain little matter, dearie. 

Peaches. And what's the certain little matter? 

Annabelle (to George). I want to make Peaches a 
small wedding present, but she's so stubborn. 

George. I'm afraid I can't advise you. I am not ''wise," 
as Peaches would say. 

Annabelle. I have pleaded with her, and — 

Peaches. Say, cut that kind of noise right now. (To 
George.) She's been coaxing me to hold out my mitt while 
she slips a wad of coin into it, so's I can ''lift" the circus 
out of here. But I won't stand for it — no, sirree. I ain't 
passing no hat around, believe me. (Annabelle takes 
Peaches' hand and entreats zvith her in pantomime conver- 
sation, zvhile George delivers his speech.) 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 59 

George (drazving to one side — aside). By Jove! I was 
almost on the point of asking Annabelle to become my wife, 
forgetting that she was rich and I — I have nothing to offer 
in return. (Dejected attitude.) 

Peaches (to George). Cheer up, Mr. Worthington. It 
may not be true. 

George (sadly). It is true — too true. 

Annabelle (to him). She won't be won over. What 
am I to do? 

George (earnestly). Give her all your money — every 
cent. Then I — (catching himself quickly.) Really, you 
know, I don't know what to say. 

Peaches. I never saw two people sorry before because 
they couldn't give away their money. Gee ^whiz ! Forget it 
— both of you. 

George (aside). I only wish I could! 

Enter Mother from house, excited manner. She lias also 
made an attempt at dress-up. 

Mother. Hello, folks. Say, Peaches, I thought you 
never was coming. How do you feel, anyhow? And you, 
too, Mr. Worthington and Miss Annabelle. 

Peaches. Fine as silk. 

Annabelle. Very nicely. Thank you. 

George. And I — I — really, you know, I don't believe I 
ever enjoyed better health in all my life. (Sighs loudlv 
and dejectedly.) 

Mother (looking closely at him). Humph! Take it 
from me, you don't act the part. (To Peaches.) Well, we 
got the bride, and we got the groom. All we need now is 
Mr. Skinner to do the splicing job. He ain't got back from 
fishin' yet. 

Annabelle. Was he informed that his capacity of jus- 
tice of the peace would be required this evening? 

Mother. I should say he was informed. I ain't knockin' 
him, you understand, but I think he'd rather go fishin than 
marry folks any day. He's got a grouch agin marriage any- 
how. And I can't say as how I blame him at that. 



60 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Peaches. Say, nix. Didn't you frame up this thing 
between Zuzu and me? 

Mother. Sure I did. But here's the idea. A doctor can 
write out a prescription, but he doesn't take the dose, does 
he? No, sir. {They all laugh.) And marriage is O. K. for 
some folks — don't hurt 'em a bit. For instance, you and 
Zuzu ought to team up great. Also Mr. Worthington there 
and Miss Annabelle — 

Annabelle {interrupting). Why, the very idea. {Turns 
away to hide her confusion.) 

George {confused). Really, you know, you are presum- 
ing too much, I 'm afraid. I — 

Mother. Well, maybe; but I'd like to see you two sign 
contracts for a life season together. It would be some act, 
and, believe me, I'd have a front seat or know the reason 
why. 

Peaches. Cut it, Mother. Can't you see your chatter is 
making 'em nervous? 

Mother {laughs). Yes, kid; and I can see further than 
that. I can see another wedding between two people, but 
of course I ain't a-goin' to mention no names. {Looks 
meaningly at George and Annabelle.) 

Enter Jerry, L. U. E. Rushes on, zvaving telegram in 
one hand. They all turn in surprise toward him. 

Jerry {coming dozvn and taking center). I got it! I got 
it folks! {Waves telegram.) 

Peaches. What's the big noise, anyhow? 

Mother. Yes, let us all in on it. Somebody bought you 
a drink? 

Jerry. You're a bunch of rummies. Can't you guess? 
It's from his nibs. He's telegraphed the coin, and — 

Peaches. Oh, gee ! I knew it. I knew he'd come clean. 
{Dancing about.) 

Mother. Hold me, somebody — I'm going to faint. 
{Staggers, discovers nobody is going to catch her, then 
takes out bottle and takes a drink.) 

Annabelle. Oh, I'm so glad. 

George. I am delighted at the good news. 



WHEN THE QRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 61 

Jerry (earnestly). Say, folks, listen. You don't none of 
you know what this means to me — none of you. I ain't slept 
any for more than a week past ; but I can sleep now. Say, 
and won't I work my head off to make this show clean up 
from now on — well, I guess. Where's Zuzu? I got to slap 
somebody hard on the back; Bring him out. 

Peaches {goin^ to steps and calling). Zuzu! Oh, you 
Zuzu ! Come out here ! 

Zuzu {inside). Just a minute — just a minute. 

Enter Zuzu from house. He is dressed in clozvn cos- 
tume, hut without the facial make-up, wearing a black coat 
over clown clothes and has a large Hozver in buttonhole. 

Zuzu {coming down steps in comedy manner). Well? 
What's loose, children? 

Jerry {rushing to him and slapping him hard on back 
tivo or three times). Read this, you scamp. The circus is 
goin' to move. {Slaps him again.) 

{Lights nozv commence to grozv dimmer.) 

Zuzu {gasping for breath). For the love of Mike! Have 
a little pity. 

Peaches {throzving her arms about Zuzu). Oh, you 
Zuzu. Ain't you glad? 

Zuzu {shoving Jerry and Peaches azvay and carefully 
arranging disorder in dress). Yes, I'm tickled to death; 
but don't muss up my trous-so. 

Mother. I knew this wedding would bring good luck. 
I told you so. {Takes a drink. George and Annabelle 
zvalk slozvly to L. and stand together in pantomime con- 
versation.) 

Jerry. Gosh all Friday ! I never was so happy before in 
all my life. Hooray! (Turning briskly.) Of course, folks, 
sentiment is all right in its way, but business is business, 
and that's the main trick from now on. You must not for- 
get that we give a performance at prompt 8:15, featuring 
our own Peaches, Queen of all Bareback Riders. Also there 
will be with us Zuzu, most celebrated of all clowns. Also 
there will be — 



62 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 



Peaches. Say, what is this, anyhow ? What's the bally 
hooing for? 

Mother. Why, he just couldn't help it. He had to get 
that out of his system. 

Jerry. That's the idea exactly, Mother. Now, folks, we 
must all get busy. We got to pull off this marriage thing 
and then hike for the Great Wonderland Circus and Menag- 
erie. So chase yourselves. 

Peaches. Pll go and see about the eating part. 

Mother. Me, too. Peaches gal. (Peaches and Mother 
exit into house. Zuzu drazvs Jerry to one side and wJiis- 
pers in his ear.) 

Jerry (nods head vigorously). Sure thing — you bet 
your boots. {Pulls out a card and pencil and hastily scrib- 
bles on card, then extends card to George). Here, young 
man — with the sincere compliments of the management of 
the Great Wonderland Circus. 

George. What is it, please? 

Jerry. Pass for two. 

Zuzu. That's how you stand with this show trick. 

George {drawing back). Why, really, you know, I will 
pay my way and very cheerfully, too. 

Jerry. Oh, shut up. If you dorx't take this pass, you 
don't get in — savvy? {Extends card.) 

Annabelle. Take it, Mr. Worthington. He means just 
what he says. 

George {takes card). Very well. If it pleases you to 
refuse my money, I shall have to accept this. 

Jerry {turns and goes to steps, then turns to George). 
I reckon I don't need to ask who the other party will be, 
eh? {Jerks thumb significantly in Annabelle's direction.) 
Well, I don't blame you. She's some gal, believe me. 
{Laughs and exits into house. Annabelle and George 
turn away from each other to hide their confusion, then 
Zuzu goes to George and whispers in his ear.) 

George. Oh, really ; no thanks are necessary. But how 
do they fit you? 

Zuzu. Immense, but I got to be careful when I sit down 
or I'll start a scandal. {To Annabelle.) You'll excuse 



■ 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 63 

me, Miss Annabelle — wasn't talking about you at all. And 
you'll both excuse me, won't you? (Turns toward steps.) 
I got two big performances to pull off this evening. See 
you later. (To George.) And don't forget the pass for 
two. (Laughs and exits into house.) 

Annabelle (taking step or tzuo toward house). I must 
go in and help, Mr. Worthington. I hope you won't get 
lonesome. (Bows and exits into house.) 

George (gadng after her, then sighs profoundly; solus). 
Lonesome? I'm afraid I shall never be anything else. Ah, 
me ! I came here for rest and quiet. But this is not the 
place for me — not the place. The sooner I leave, the better 
it will be. I shall go at once — this is not the place for me. 
Not the place. (Walks sloivly into house.) 

Enter Clay, L. U. E. 

Clay (glancing all about). If they think they're going 
to make me hunt for cover, they're mistaken. I'm going 
to have a word or two with that girl or know why not. 
(Starts for house.) 

Enter Zuzu from house, blocking Clay^s entrance. 

Zuzu. Hold on, mister man. You ain't invited to be 
among those present here this evening. Beat it. 

Clay (sneeringly) . Oh, I'm not, eh? (Makes threaten- 
ing motion.) 

Zuzu (pulls revolver and shoves it under Clay's nose). 
No, you're not. (Forces Clay back.) I've invited every- 
body to my wedding that I care to invite, and I'm darn 
sure I didn't invite you. Now listen to your Uncle Dudley. 
I never killed a man in all my life, and whenever that hap- 
pens to me I get peevish — See! 

Clay. Put that gun down, you fool ! 

Zuzu. Say, don't call me names. I'm getting more peev- 
ish every minute. But I'm glad I met you. I want to laugh 
and you've got to make me — see. Now make me laugh. 
(Gun business.) 

Clay. I shall do nothing of the kind — 

Zuzu. Oh, yes, you will. (Gun under Clay's nose.) 



64 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Fm running this circus now. I don't care how or what you 
do so long as you make me laugh — so start in. But, remem- 
ber — make me laugh and laugh good. 

Clay. Say, I can't do anything funny. I'm no clown. 

Zuzu. Oh, yes, you can. (Gun business.) 

Clay (sullenly). Well, what'll I do? 

Zuzu. As Shakespeare s^d : '*I had rather have a fool 
to make me laugh than experience to make me sad." Go 
ahead. Tell me a funny story. And be darn sure that it is 
funny, too. 

Clay (seeing there's no escape for him). Well, I'll do it, 
but I'll get you for this some time. 

Zuzu. Say, that's pretty funny ; but I ain't laughing 
yet. Get busy, mister. (Gun business.) 

Clay. Well, why does a chicken with a sack of flour on 
its back cross the street? 

Zuzu. Hold on, hold on. You can't slip any ''why does 
a chicken cross the street stuff" over on me. Besides, what's 
the idea of the sack of flour? 

Clay. Oh, I put that in to make it harder. Don't you 
think that's funny. (Anxiously.) 

Zuzu. No. You're a bum comedian. Stand on your 
head. 

Clay. I shall not — 

Zuzu. Stand on your head, I say. (Gun business.) 

Clay. Oh, all right. (Gets dozvn on hands and knees 
and tries to get up on head, but cant.) 

Zuzu. Very good. Now on your feet again — quick. 

Clay (rising — anxious). Did you laugh yet? 

Zuzu. Not yet. Now, cry like a baby. And be sure that 
you give a correct imitation. 

Clay. Say, I can't do that — 

Zuzu. Oh, yes, you can. (Gun business.) 

Clay. Two can play at this game, Mister Clown — re- 
member that. 

Zuzu. I do remember it ; that's why this performance. 
Now you be the fool — cry like a baby. 

Clay (gives cry like a baby). How's that? That suit 
you? 



WHEN THE Cn^CUS CAME TO TOWN. 65 

Zuzu. Rotten. Positively the worst I ever heard. Now 
ril give you just one more chance — just one, understand? 
I want you to walk out of this yard and give a correct imi- 
tation of a man that's never coming back again to trouble 
anybody. And be sure your imitation is good, or — (gun 
business) I'll hiss you plenty besides. 

Clay (hesitates, then scozvls, turns and zvalks to back C). 
I know when I'm, beaten, Mister Clown. But perhaps we 
shall meet again, and then — 

Zuzu. If we do there's a couple of more imitations 
you'll have to do for me, Mister Bad Boy. One will be that 
of a man stopping a bullet. Now get. (Gun business.) 

Clay. You bet. (Exits rapidly, L. U. E.) 

Enter Peaches, from house. 

Peaches. Why, Zuzu, what you doing? 

Zuzu. Nothing. It's all done. 

Peaches. What is? 

Zuzu. Why, that horrid Clay person was here and I 
got back at him for what he did to me the other day — 
that's all. By gosh, you know I was so angry that I'd a 
shot him — only for one thing. 

Peaches. And what was that one thing? 

Zuzu. The darn gun wasn't loaded. (Laughs, then 
snaps hammer several times to shozv gun is empty.) But, 
say, I clean forgot something-. I got something awful 
pretty for you. \¥ait a second. (Runs quickly into house 
to get flowers.) 

Peaches. Gee, I'll wait longer than that for something 
pretty. 

Re-enter Zuzu, carrying the large bouquet. 

Zuzu (making low bozv and extending Hozuers). It ain't 
much. Peaches, old pal, but — 

Peaches (taking flozvers). Oh, Zuzu. (Buries face in 
them.) 

Zuzu. I'm glad you like 'em, Peaches. I'd a bought 
you three or four diamonds and a touring car, but I mis- 
laid my check book. 



66 WHEN THE QRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Peaches (throzving her arms about him). I know, you 
old Zuzu. I understand. Your heart is jewel enough for 
me. 

Zuzu. Nix. Where's the pawnbroker that would take 
my heart. 

Peaches. Right here. I'll be your pawnbroker. 

Zuzu. Gee, I'll always have my heart in soak with you. 
Come on. Let's take a walk, kid. And we'll talk about the 
moon, and the stars, and — and other things. 

Peaches. All right. Let's. (They exit arm in arm, R. 
U. E., pantomime conversation.) 

Enter George from house, carrying suitcase. Walks to 
back center and is about to exit E. U. E., ivhcn Annabelle 
enters from house and stops him as she calls. 

Annabelle. Why, ]\Ir. Worthington, where are you 
going? 

George (facing her). I — I — was just going to the village 
on an errand. (Nervous manner.) 

Annabelle. Why, you'll miss the wedding, sir. 

George (still at back). Really, you know. Miss Reeves, 
I— 

Annabelle. Mr. Worthington, I'm very skeptical. 
Come here and tell me what v/e have done to drive you 
away. 

George (coming dozvn to bench, sets grip dozvn). We 
haven't done anything. It's you. 

Annabelle. I? I don't undrestand. (Shy attitude.) 

George. Oh, I can't explain. Miss Reeves — I have not 
the right. Can't you make it easy for us both and let me 
go my way? 

Annabelle. No. I insist on knowing your reason. 

Enter Zuzu and Peaches, R. U. E., arm in arm. Dis- 
cover other tzvo and come softly dozvn stage and stand 
listening. 

George. Very well, if you must. (Suddenly grozvs bold 
and kisses her.) There's my reason. I love you. Now scold 
me. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 67 

Annabelle (surprised^ but pleased). You — you love me 
and was going away? Surely that's a very strange thing 
to do. 

George. No, no. Can't you understand? It's your 
money, Annabelle. 

Annabelle. My money? Again I don't understand. 

George. Yes — your money. You are rich and I — I have 
nothing. It wouldn't be right — really it wouldn't, fon me to 
— to — marry you. 

Annabelle. You don't know what you are saying — 

George. Oh, yes, I do. T'm a poor college professor, 
and you are one of the richest girls in Kentucky. What 
would everybody call me ? ^ Nothing more or less than a for- 
tune hunter, a thief and all sorts of hard names. No. I was 
mad to even think of daring to aspire to your hand. Come. 
We will say goodby. (Grasps her hand, holds it for an 
instant, then picks up grip and turns to go.) 

Peaches {intercepting him). Hold on, mister man. You 
don't "blow" yet, you know. 

George {drawing hack in surprise), Blow? 

Zuzu. Oh, she means "beat" it — to make it plainer. 

Peaches {to George). That ain't no nice way to do. 
There's going to be a wedding and you're invited — see ! 

George. But — but, my dear young lady. You don't un- 
derstand. 

Peaches. Sure, I do. You kissed the girl there. I saw 
you do it. And you want to break her heart by blowing 
the town. Nothing doing. You stick here, pal. 

Zuzu. Most certainly. You ain't going to break no 
hearts — not while Peaches and yours truly are on the job. 
{Takes George by the arm and leads him in direction of 
Annabelle.) Come this way, please. 

George (holding back). No, no; besides, Miss Reeves 
has something to say in the matter. 

Peaches {taking Annabelle by the arm and forcing her 
towards George) . She's going to say "Yes." I can see it 
popping out of her rosy lips. {To Annabelle.) Ain't you, 
Miss Annabelle? 

Annabelle {shyly). Yes — I would say yes. 



68 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

George (groans). Oh, I wish she didn't have any money. 

Zuzu. Put her in the circus business and she won't have 
a cent in six months. Now cHnch and be quick about it. 
(Peaches and Zuzu draw Annabelle and George to- 
gether and then embrace and kiss.) 

Enter Cyrus, L. U. E. 

Cyrus (as he comes doivn, then stops and sees them em- 
brace). Gosh — excuse me. I reckon I ain't wanted here. 
(Starts to go.) 

Peaches (to Cyrus). Stop. A^ou sure are wanted. I 
want you to marry me to Zuzu, and — well, look at them 
folks there. They'll be doing it next. You'll have a job 
there pretty soon, all right. 

Cyrus (to Annabelle). Well, I'll sure do a good job of 
work. Miss Annabelle, when I marry you — satisfaction 
strictly guaranteed. Excuse me just a minute, folks, while 
I get some marriage license blanks for Miss Peaches and 
Mister Zuzu. (Starts for house.) 

George (to Cyrus). How did the fish bite, Mr. Skinner? 

Cyrus. Fish didn't bite nothing extra, but I bet I fed a 
million mosquitoes. (Exit into house.) 

Peaches. We'll all have to hurry. We got a perform- 
ance pretty soon, now. 

Annabelle (to Peaches). Dear girl, why not give up 
that life. Stay here with me. Everything I have is yours 
for the asking. 

Peaches. What! Give up my circus life? No. It's too 
dead in these diggings. On the square, I'd die of lonesome 
disease if I stuck around here another week. Why, I love 
the circus, with the big white tent, the crowds, the horses, 
the glitter of the lights, the music, all the excitement of the 
applause. The ever moving* on, and on. And you ask me 
to give up the circus? Nix. You might just as well ask 
me to give up my very life — for the circus is life itself to 
me. No, Miss Annabelle, I thank you — oh, so much, but I 
belong up there — there's my home. Not any place on earth 
else either. (Points to tent.) 

Zuzu. Me, too. Peaches. 



WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 69 

Annabelle (kisses her, then sighs). God bless you, 
Peaches — for what you've done for me, and you shall never 
need a friend. {She trims and extends her hand to George.) 

George (take's her hand). And so say I. 

Enter Cyrus from house. 

Cyrus. Doggone the luck, anyhow. Say, I ain't got a 
marriage license in the house. xAin't got nothing but dog 
licenses — doggone it, anyhow. 

Zuzu. Well, you can't marry me with a dog license. I 
won't stand for that. 

Annabelle. What's to be done? 

Enter Mother and Jerry from house. They are both 
dressed for a journey and carry bundles. 

Jerry. Say, this marriage thing has got to be postponed. 
And I got the swell idea. We'll pull the thing off in the 
big tent, immediately after the big performance. 

Mother. Yes, and we got to get a move on, too. They 
just telephoned for us to get a wiggle on. Say, how you all 
feel, anyhow? Well, I'm off. Come on, folks. (Starts for 
back, C.) 

Jerry (to Cyrus), You get a move on, too, my worthy 
justice of the peace, policeman, constable, sheriff, hotel 
keeper, and so on down the list. Dig up a marriage license 
somewhere. So long, folks. See you all later. (MoTHERand 
Jerry exit, hurried manner, R. U. E.) 

Zuzu (to George). Better hike along, Mr. Worthington. 
And don't forget you got a pass for two. (M-^inks knozu- 
ingly.) 

Peaches. Yes, and that pass is good for the big show 
afterwards — don't forget that. 

George. Really, you know. This has been quite an 
eventful period in my life, these past few days. I came here 
for rest and quiet, and I found — a sweetheart, likewise a 
wife. (Takes Annabelle^'s hand.) 

Annabelle. Come, dear ; we'll miss some of the per- 
formance. (Annabelle takes George's arm and they exit 
R. U. E., in conversation.) 



70 WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN. 

Cyrus. Well, it's up to me to make good now. (Starts 
for back C, then faces them again.) It's a funny world, 
ain't it? A few days ago I attached the whole darn circus, 
and now I got to attach you two folks. So long. {Exit 
R. U. E.) 

Peaches {pointing at tent, the lights in which are now 
bright). Look, Zuzu ! Gee, ain't that great! 

Zuzu {kisses her). Yes — but this is greater, Peaches 
pal. {Kisses her again. They stand with backs to audience, 
pointing at circus tent, til! — ) 

Curtain. 



The Man from Nevada 

By CHARLES ULRICH. 
Price, 25 Cents 

Comedy-drama, 4 acts; 9 m., 5 f. Scenes: Easy to set, all in-" 
teriors. Characters: Harrington, a member of Congress from Ne- 
vada. Col. Fitzallen, a war veteran. Count de Santeau, a French 
adventurer. Von Gruyter, a German. Jimmy Lester, a West Point 
cadet. Senator Shaw. Joh ston, a rich broker. Manning, a cow- 
boy valet. Boxton, a butler. Madeline Sylvester, emotional lead. 
Marie Wentworth, de Santeau' s accomplice. Alice Saintsbury, a 
girl with a temper. Mrs. Shaw, a Washington matron. Lucy, a 
maid. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I. — The ball. The fortification plans. The false count ex- 
posed. The accusation. "The most daring card sharp in France." 
"This woman is his accomplice." 

Act II. — The tea party. The love of a true man rejected. A 
woman's heart trampled upon. A villain's advice, "Don't fish for 
titles." The theft of the necklace. "He is my husband." The 
oath, "I swear to bring him to justice." 

Act III. — Matrimonial complications of a German. Woman true 
to woman. A wife's confession. The rifling of the writing case. 
"No, I will stake my ilfe upon his innocence." 

Act IV. — Lovers' quarrels. Harrington as peacemaker. Story of 
the false marriage. "I love you." Villainy at bay. The attack. 
Manning to the rescue. Love rules the world. The shots. "I 
plugged him, boss." The triumph of love. 

The Bank Cashier 

By W. C. PARKER. 
Price. 23 Cents 

Melodrama, 4 acts; 8 m., 4 f. If desirable one man can play 
three parts and one woman can double. Time, about 2 h. Scenes: 
Not difficult, 3 interiors, 2 exteriors. Characters: Templeton, the 
bank cashier. Kingston, the paying teller. Ichabod Slick and Jacob 
Sharp, Jew lawyers, detectives, etc., who are out for the "stuff." 
Blinkey, poor but romantic. Sinclair, a wealthy miner. O'Hara, 
"one of the finest." A detective. Edith Sinclair. Lucy, her maid. 
Susan, who means well. Biddy, who scrubs well. 
SYNOPSIS. 

Act I. — The village home. Lucy and Blinkey come to an under- 
standing. Susan and her gossip. The warning. The fatal letter. 
Ikey outwitted. The shattered prospects. 

Act II. — The troubles of Biddy. The bank cashier at business. 
Ikey wins his point. The unsuspecting miner. The trap. Paul tries 
to save him. The murder. Father and daughter. "The receipt or 
I'll choke you." 

Act III., Scene I. — The loving partners. Both on the same case. 
The law firm splits up. Scene II. — Blinkey bids Lucy "Good-bye." 
The warning and offer of protection. Paul again to the rescue. 
■The enemies at bay. 

Act IV., Scene I. — Ikey bewails his loss. The precious coat-tail. 
Hurrah for Blinkey. Scene II. — The frosty welcome of Blinkey. 
The robbery. Burning the papers. The accusation. Retribution. 
The penalty. The reward of merit. 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 

154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO 



On the Little Bi^ Horn 

By CHARLES ULRICH. 

Price. 25 Cents 

Western comedy-drama, 4 acts; 10 m., 4 '. Time, 2i^ h. Scenes: 
2 interiors, 1 exterior. Easy to set. Chnracters: Ludlow, a cavalry 
officer. Winston, a West Pointer. Carl jton, an Indian agent. Gra- 
ham, commandant of Ft. Winslow. Daliota Dan, a scout. O'Raf- 
ferty. an Irish sergeant. War Eagle, c. Sioux Indian chief. Hop 
Sing, a Chinese cook. Hanks, a telegraph operator. Martin, a 
trooper. Beryl Seymour, the belle of the garrison. Rose-of-the- 
Mist, a pretty Indian maiden. Sue Graham, a soubrette. Mrs. 
Spencer, a talkative widow. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I. — The Major's suspicion. Rose reveals a secret. News of 
the Indian uprising. "This is what love has brought me to." The 
abduction. A soldier's oath. "To the rescue — then justice." 

Act II. — "The Indians are coming." A scared Chinaman. "Savee 
Hop Sing's pigtail." Rose offers to give herself up to Spotted Face 
to save the palefaces. The avowal of love. "We will fight and die 
together." The rescue. 

Act III.^ — A message from the President. The wire is cut. "This 
is the the work of Carleton." "The testimony is perjured and the 
documents are forgeries." "I believe you innocent." "You are to 
be shot at sunrise." Beryl to the rescue. Beryl at the telegraph 
key. The reprieve. 

Act IV. — A scout's experience with a Chinaman, "I love ye, 
Rose." "We talk to parson." Saved by an accident. "We will 
surprise mamma and papa." Hop Sing goes on strike. Carleton 
in disguise returns. "I will kill you and have my revenge." Rose 
shoots Carleton. The reunion. "It is God's way." 



An American Hustler 

By WILLIAM S. GILL. 

Price, 23 Cents 

Comedy-drama, 4 acts; 7 m., 4 f. Time, 2% h. Scenes: Laid in 
Idaho and Chicago. Easy to set, 1 exterior, 3 interiors. Characters: 
Major Bob, editor of the "Eagle's Scream." Rawdon, a gambler. 
Steve, a young miner in hard luck. Old Joe, a miner who 
doesn't mine. Duxum, a lawyer. Binks, his clerk. Servant. Ame- 
lia, Old Joe's daughter. Priscilla, principal of a young ladies' sem- 
inary. Annie, a deserted wife. . Mary, the maid. 

SYNOPSIS. 
Act I. — In Paradise. The Major says something. 
Act II. — Law office in Chicago. The Major learns something. 
Act III. — Miss Fagg's Seminary. The Major tells something. 
Act IV. — Apartment in Major's house. The Major introduces 
something. 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 

154 W. Randolph Street. CHICAGO 



DENISON'S ACTING PLAY*. 

Price 15 Cents Each. Postpaid, Unless Different Price is Given. 



M. F. 

Documentary Evidence, 25 min. 1 1 

Dude in a Cyclone, 20 min.... 4 2 

Family Strike, 20 min 3 3 

First-Class Hotel, 20 min 4 

For Love and Honor, 20 min . . 2 1 

Fudge and a Burglar, 15 min*.. 5 
Fun in a Photograph Gallery, 

30 min 6 10 

Great Doughnut Corporation, 

30 min 3 5 

Great Medical Dispensary, 30 m. 6 
^ireat Pumpkin Case, 30 min. ..12 

Hans Von Smash, 30 min 4 3 

Happy Pair, 25 min 1 1 

I'm Not Mesilf at All, 25 min. 3 2 
Initiating a Granger, 25 min.. 8 

Irish Linen Peddler, 40 min ... 3 3 

Is the Editor In? 20 min 4 2 

Kansas Immigrants^ 20 min.... 5 1 

Men Not Wanted, 30 min 8 

Mike Donovan's Courtship, 15 m. 1 3 

Mother Goose's Goslings, 30 m. 7 9 

Mrs. Carver's Fancy Ball, 40 m. 4 3 
Mrs. Stubbins' Book Agent, 30 

min 3 2 

My Lord in Livery, 1 hr 4 3 

My Neighbor's Wife, 45 min... 3 3 

My Turn Next, 45 min 4 3 

My Wife's Relations, 1 hr 4 6 

Not a Man in the House, 40 m. 5 

Obstinate Family, 40 min 3 3 

Only Cold Tea, 20 min 3 3 

Outwitting the Colonel, 25 min. 3 2 

Pair of Lunatics, 20 min 1 1 

Patsy O'Wang, 35 min 4 3 

Pat, the Apothecary, 35 min... 6 2 

Persecuted Dutchman, 30 min.. 6 3 

Regular Fix, 35 min 6 4 

Rough Diamond, 40 min 4 3 

Second Childhood, 15 min 2 2 

Slasher and Crasher, 50 min... 5 2 

Tak-ing Father's Place, 30 rain.. 5 3 

Taming a Tiger, 30 min 3 

That Rascal Pat, 30 min 3 2 

Those Red Envelopes, 25 min. 4 4 
Too Much of a Good Thing, 45 

min 3 6 

Treasure from Egypt, 45 min. 4 1 

Turn Him Out, 35 min 3 2 

Two Aunts and a Photo, 20 m. . 4 

Two Bonnycastles, 45 min 3 3 

Two Gentlemen in a Fix, 15 m. 2 

Two Ghosts in White, 20 min . . 8 

Two of a Kind, 40 min 2 3 

Uncle Dick's Mistake, 20 min.. 3 2 

Wanted a Correspondent, 45 m. 4 4 

Wanted a Hero, 20 min 1 1 

Which Will He Marry ? 20 min. 2 8 

Who Is Who? 40 min 3 2 

Wide Enough for Two, 45 min. 5 2 

Wrong Baby, 25 min 8 

Yankee Peddler. 1 hr 7 3 



VAUDEVILLE SKETCHES. ».ON- 
OLOGUES. ETHIOPIAN PLAYS. 

M. F. 

Ax'in' Her Father, 25 min 2 3 

B®Gster Club of Blackville, 25 m.lO 
Breakfast Food for Two, 20 m.. 1 1 

Cold Finish, 15 min 2 1 

Coon Creek Courtship, 15 min.. 1 1 
Coontown Thirteen Club, 25 m. 14 

Counterfeit Bills, 20 min 1 1 

Doings of a Dude, 20 min 2 1 

Dutch Cocktail, 20 min 2 

Five Minutes from Yell College, 

15 min 2 

For Reform, 20 min 4 

Fresh Timothy Hay, 20 min... 2 1 
Glickman, the Glazier, 25 min.. 1 1 
Handy Andy (Negro), 12 min.. 2 

Her Hero, 20 min 1 1 

Hey, Rube! 15 min 1 

Home Run, 15 min 1 1 

Hot Air, 25 min 2 1 

Jumbo Jum, 30 min 4 3 

Little Red School House, 20 m. 4 

Love and Lather, 35 min 3 2 

Marriage and After, 10 min... 1 
Mischievous Nigger, 25 min... 4 2 

Mistaken Miss, 20 min 1 1 

Mr. and Mrs. Fido, 20 min.... 1 1 
Mr. Badger's Uppers, 40 min.. 4 2 
One Sweetheart for Two, 20 m. 2 
Oshkosh Next Week. 20 min.. 4 

Oyster Stew, 10 min 2 

Pete Yansen's Gurl's Moder, 10 

min 1 

Pickles for Two, 15 min 2 

Pooh Bah of Peacetown, 35 min. 2 2 
Prof. Black's Funnygraph, 15 m. 6 

Recruiting Office, 15 min 2 

Sham Doctor, 10 min 4 2 

Si and I, 15 min 1 

Special Sale, 15 min 2 

Stage Struck Darky, 10 min... 2 1, 
Sunny Son of Italy, 15 min... 1 

Time Table, 20 min 1 1 

Tramp and the Actress, 20 min. 1 1 
Troubled by Ghosts, 10 min... 4 
Troubles of Rozinski, IS min.. 1 
Two Jay Detectives, 15 min... 3 

Umbrella Mender, 15 min 2 

Uncle Bill at the Vaudeville, 15 

min 1 

Uncle Jeflf, 25 min 5 2 

Who Gits de Reward? 30 min.. 5 1 



A lireat number of 

Standard and Amateur Plays 

not found here are listed in 

Denison's Catalogue. 



T. S. DENISON £i COMPANY. 154 W. Randolph SU, Chicago 



OCT 21 1912 



POPULAR ENTERTAIiviwwivT i*^--':- 

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



Price, Illustrated Paper Gov 




T.S.DENISON 

ruBUSHER OICACO 



¥N this Series 
are found 
books touching: 
every feature 
in the enter- 
tainment f.eld. 
Finely made, 
gfood. paper, 
clear print and 
each book has 
an attractive 
individual cov- 
er design. 



DIALOGUES 

All Sorts of Dialotiues. 

Selected, fine for older pupils. 
Catchy Comic Dialogues. 

New, clever; for young- people. 
Children's Comic Dialofiues. 

From six to eleven years of age. 
Dialogues from Dickens. 

Thirteen selections. 
The Friday Afternoon Dialogues. 

50,000 copies sold. 
From Tots to Teens. 

Dialogues and recitations. 
Lively Dialogues. 

For all ages; mostly humorous. 
When the Lessons are Over. 

Dialogues, drills, plays. 
Wide Awake Dialogues. 

Brand new, original, successful. 

SPEAKERS, MONOLOGUES 

Choice Pieces for Little People. 

A child's speaker. 

The Comic Entertainer. 

Recitations, monologues, dialogues. 

Dialect Readings. 

Irish, Dutch. Negro, Scotch, etc. 

The Favorite Speaker. 

Choice prose and poetry. 

The Friday Afternoon Speaker. 
For pupils of all ages. 

Humorous Monolo^es. 
Particularly for ladies. 

Monologues for Youn|{ Folks. 
Clever, humorous, original. 

The Patriotic Speaker. 

Master thoughts of masterminds. 

The Poetical Entertainer. 
For reading or speaking. 

Pomes ovthe Peepul. 

Wit, humor, satire; funny poems. 

Scrap-Book Recitations. 

Choice collections, pathetic, hu- 
morous, descriptive, prose, poe- 
try. 14 Nos., per No. 25c. 




The 



015 910 217 8 



mays TTIIU UrillS. 

For children from 6 to 11 years. 
The Surprise Drill Book. 

Fresh, novel, drills and marches. 

SPECIALTIES 

The Boys' Entertainer. 

Monologues, dialogues, drills. 
Children's Party Book. 

Plans, invitations, decorations, 

games. 
The Days We Celebrate. 

Entertainments for all the holidays. 
Good Things for Christmas. 

Recitations, dialogues, drills. 
The Little Folks, or Work and Play. 

A gem of a book. 
Little Folks' Budget. 

Easy pieces to speak, songs. 
One Hundred Entertainments. 

New parlor diversions, socials. 
Patriotic Celebrations. 

Great variety of material. 
Pranks and Pastimes. 

Parlor games for children. 
Shadow Pictures, Pantomimes, 

Charades, and how to prepare. 
Tableaux and Scenic Readings. > 

New and novel; for all ages. 
Twinkling Finiiers and Swaying 

Figures. For little tots. 
Yuletide Entertainments. 

A choice Christmas collection. 

HAND BOOKS 

The Debater's Handbook. 

Bound only in cloth, 50c. 
Everybody's Letter Writer. 

A handy manual. 
Good Manners. 

Etiquette in brief form. 
Private Theatricals. 

How to put on plays. ' 
Social Card Games. 

Complete in brief form. 

MINSTRELS. JOKES 

Black American Joker. 

Minstrels' and end men's gags. 
A Bundle of Burnt Cork Comedy. 

Monologues , stump speeches.etc. 
Laufihland, via the Ha-Ha Route. 

A merry trip for fun tourists. 
Ne^ro Minstrels. 

All about the business. 
The New Jolly Jester. 

Funny stories, jokes, gags, etc. 

Lar^e Illustrated Catalot^ue Free. 



T. S. DENISON & COMPANY. Publishers, 154 W. Randolph St.. Chicago 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

015 910 217 8 



